


Come Back To Me

by aksarah



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesiac Mollymauk Tealeaf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Mollymauk Tealeaf, Drag Queens, Flashbacks, Fluid Sexuality, Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Male Pronouns for Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molestation, Moliggan Brightside, Mollymauk Lives Fest, Multi, Nicodranas (Critical Role), Original Character(s), Resurrection, Slavery, Social Anxiety, Substance Abuse, Zadash, mlm, non-binary original character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aksarah/pseuds/aksarah
Summary: Gustav Fletching was unsure where his path led, until he found a resurrected tiefling in it...again. My attempt to bring Molly back to us. MollyxGustav. Angst, drama, puke, tears (soap opera stuff), and a hint of sexual abuse later (not between them!). Started in February of 2019, sometime around episode 50 of CRC2. Canon divergence just before Felderwyn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Yesterday I got so scared, I shivered like a child.  
> Yesterday away from you, it froze me deep inside.  
> Come back, come back, don't walk away.  
> Come back, come back, come back today.  
> Come back, come back! Why can't you see?  
> Come back, come back! Come back to me!"  
> \- the cure

            Gustav Fletching would always remember that the sunset appeared downright glorious that day—pale blue and yellow shifted against the clouds to magenta and soft violet—as good a sign as any that he was on the right path, even if he had been headed to Shady Creek Run.

 

            He breathed in the crisp air, rubbed his hands a few times, then folded them under his arms for warmth. As the sun set, the autumnal temperatures dropped to nearly freezing. He could still turn around. The thin jacket with long tails he wore offered little protection from the elements and he had recently worn a small hole in the sole of his left shoe. Only another day or so to the border. He could still turn around. The moons rose, nearly full but waning to the south, seeming to follow him like two mis-matched eyes. He’d been walking for only a week now. He could _still turn around._

            A twinge of panic surprised him, making him catch his breath and shudder involuntarily. “Come on, you’ve been over this!” He scolded himself.

Not a week prior the Mighty Nein had trundled into his life and turned it on its head once again, releasing him from hard labor and turning him out on the world a free man. He had initially refused to let them do him this kindness, terrified of what would come of it, until a pink-haired firbolg traveling with them looked on him with unblinking, penetrating eyes. _“You’re a man who is afraid of what you owe,”_ he had said. _“It’ll feel so much better when you’re finally free from this belief.”_

            Gustav gently slapped his cheeks to help snap himself to attention. “You probably can’t make it up to him, but it’s all you can do to try. It’ll be terrible, but the sky is clear, you’re in good health, and the path is…” he started, then observed the path in question. A long way down the Glory Run Road ahead of him he spied with his half-elven vision a covered wagon listed to one side. Three figures he could only just make out moved around it. “The path has a broken down cart in it,” he muttered with a grin and picked up the pace.

 

            As he approached he raised his hands in passive greeting. Gustav Fletching was a tall, thin, half-elven man with straight silky ash-brown hair that he wore in a thick braid down his back. His eyes were a friendly, warm brown and a sincere smile graced his fine features.

            “Hail, friends. You look like you could use a hand.” Disappointingly, the wagon was pointing in the opposite direction of his travel. “If you were headed north, I would ask for a ride, but perhaps you could spare a silver or two for some assistance?”

            A stout dwarven man scoffed from his position squatting near the broken wheel. Two of the spokes had snapped causing the rim to bow out. A half-orc woman standing next to him raised her chin and put her hand on the handle of a great ax on her hip.

            “Hail!” chimed the third member of their party and the other two groaned. A human woman in her fifties or so smiled at him and made a gesture he didn’t recognize but assumed was associated with her worship as she wore clerical vestments of the Platinum Dragon. Another quick scan of the party found hints of this worship adorning the other two, as well. She swung a lantern around so that she could see their visitor. “If you could offer any assistance, good sir, we would be most appreciative!”

            Gustav peered at the cart. It was otherwise in fair shape. “I traveled quite a bit in such contraptions and have repaired them more times that I care to count. I may not have a strong back like you fine folks, but I do have some know-how. If you were to pry the topmost board from the buck it can be split in two and lashed to the spokes as a splint. Could get you as far as the crossroads if you move carefully.” The cleric looked to the others for confirmation and they shrugged.

            “Worth a try,” the dwarf grumbled made a motion for Gustav to assist.

            “First, you should unload some of the weight if you have anything heavy back there because you’ll need to jack this up. Do you have anything that could go under the axel?”

            “Ah, we have some barrels we could use,” the cleric agreed and she and the half-orc went around to the back of the wagon. “Come, children. It’s alright. We’re going to go play in the field for a little while. Jorga, can you help me with our new friend?” Soon, Jorga the half-orc had easily lifted three people from the back and deposited them around the other side. Two tiefling children of no more than twelve years played quietly beside the wagon and the cleric sat with another person covered in what appeared to be a large cloak just outside his line of sight.

            Gustav started helping the strong ones pry the board loose and split it. They had some nails and a spare leather harnesses to aid in the repair and after almost two hours of work he had gotten them back on the road. The dwarf clasped his hand and gave Gustav an appreciative smile. “Not usual us finding someone helpful. Thank you. Go see Hildi for your silver.”

            “I thank you, friend.” Gustav bowed low and rounded the back of the wagon. “All set!” He chimed. The two tiefling children, a boy with grey coloring and a girl with red were playing cat’s cradle in the gathering gloom. Hildi stood up from the bedroll on which they had been sitting on the sparse grass off the side of the road. “Oh, excellent!” she replied, brightly. “Now, come along, we need to make it to the crossroads before we rest.” She reached down to the figure seated next to her. Gustav noticed the cloak was less of a garment and more a huge length of brocade with symbols of the Platinum Dragon all over it. “Give me your hands, now, friend,” she said and fished them out from under their wraps and tried to pull him up. “Oh, you poor dear, come on now…” Hildi’s voice lost a little of its positivity. “Well be on our way soon and you can rest later, ok?”

            “Let me help,” Gustav offered and bent to grasp a purple wrist. As he and Hildi gently pulled and rocked him to his feet Gustav froze. Hildi went on, thanking him again and scrounging in her coin purse for a few silver to give him for his trouble but he didn’t hear her. He stared hard at the man slouching under the Platinum Dragon tapestry. His horns had lost their adornments, his face was dirty, and his red eyes were downcast and vacant.

            “Molly…” Gustav breathed.

            He twitched, blinked a few times and looked up at Gustav’s face. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

 

_He is soaked to the bone and shuddering violently. The soft brown eyes search his and a hand brushes his hair back from his forehead. "You're going to be alright, friend," he says..._

 

            In a moment, the lucidity had passed and he cast his eyes groundward once more, shivering slightly in the cold, crisp air.

            “What’s the holdup?” The dwarf asked as he rounded the side of the wagon. He pointed with his thumb at their charge. “You know him?”

            “I…” Gustav placed a trembling hand against the lavender tiefling’s face and in the light of Hildi’s lantern he noted the tattoos, and the many fine scars. “I do. Oh, Molly…”

            “Ah!” Hildi cried. “It is divine providence! You see, Felder! Bahamut brought us north to rescue these children,” she said with a sweeping gesture that encompassed them, “and put us on the path in which this poor man lay, freezing and beaten to within an inch of his life so that we might reunite him with his friend!”

            Finally, gears that had been turning in his mind clicked into place and Gustav gasped. He knew that look. He’d seen it over two years ago when this man stumbled upon their camp, lost, freezing, starving, and empty. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re back again.”

            “What’s the matter with him, then?” the dwarf called Felder asked, narrowing his eyes. When Gustav hesitated, he held a hand up and with a word and a flourish compelled him to be truthful. Hildi seemed displeased that her compatriot would resort to spellcraft so quickly, but he silenced her and asked again. “What’s the matter with him?”

            Gustav kept his grip on Mollymauk’s wrist, the other hand dropped to his shoulder, but he did not seem to notice, his eyes cast down, unfocused on the ground. “He’s suffered a great trauma,” Gustav said carefully. “I’ve seen him like this once before. It took months for him to recover.”

            “And who exactly are you?”

            “My name is Gustav, and this man is my friend,” he said and stared into his eyes, searching for that fleeting sign of recognition he’d seen when he first uttered his name. “We traveled together in a carnival a few months ago, but were separated.” Molly shivered, but did not respond.

            “Carnival,” Hildi repeated. “That explains all those marks on his skin.”

            “Indeed,” Gustav agreed. “Molly. I—” He glanced north up the Glory Run Road then back to his old friend and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

 

.x.

            The closet-sized room atop The Weeping Willow, a seedy tavern in the slums of Zadash, was less than comfortable for two, but all an out of work ringmaster and his comatose charge could afford. It was, however, a far cry better than the cold, hard ground they had suffered as they made their way back from the north. As they had to share one narrow, hard bed, Gustav would spoon Molly, one arm wrapped around his middle to keep either of them from falling out. For his part, Molly slept like the dead and though Gustav found the close proximity initially awkward, he soon fell into the familiarity of him, resting his forehead against one of Molly’s horns and falling asleep each night to the rhythm of his steady breathing.

            Gustav spent the day finding odd jobs to pay for their room and what food he could afford. It was often hard work, shoveling, washing, bartending, and his hands, back, and shoulders ached with the effort. Molly was improving slowly, and thankfully could take direction and stayed in the room during the day. Some nights he’d take him out for a brief walk, but Gustav would soon become exhausted. Most evenings were spent in their “charity closet” coaxing his lost friend back from wherever it was he had receded.

            From the moment he first touched his face, Gustav had felt a strong pull toward Molly, a gravity that was impossible to resist. If he had encountered him before he lost his life—joking, flirtatious, enchanting as he had been—Gustav was sure he would have simply let him dance in and out of his life again. Mollymauk belonged to everyone, but this man, the same one he had rescued more than two years before, needed him and this time he would have to do it alone. Molly had an air of childlike innocence that Gustav felt he had to protect at all costs. He held his hands, rubbed his shoulders, lifted his chin to try to get him to make eye contact, and slept with him in a tight embrace, but though he was affectionate in his demeanor, it never occurred to Gustav to take advantage of his strikingly beautiful friend.

 

            Each day seemed a little better and after about a week or so Molly could feed and clean up after himself with only a little guidance. One evening, about three weeks after he had found him, Gustav returned to find Molly standing in the dimly lit room at the tiny window, peering out at the uninteresting view of other buildings it afforded. “Do you want to go outside, Molly?” he asked quietly and joined him, putting a calloused hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around. Molly’s eyes flicked around the room then to his surprise rested for a moment on Gustav. “Hello!” Gustav chimed, but it was only temporary. “You know, I often wonder if you can hear me. Perhaps you’re trapped inside your own head. I wonder how much of what I say or do you find incredibly embarrassing. I’m really rather glad you’ve got the toilet figured out, now,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I had a good day, today, Molly. I found work!  No more ditch digging or clothes washing for me. Which is good. I’m not cut out for day-labor.” He lifted a thin arm and flexed non-existent muscles to make a point. “I went door to door in the Insterstead Sprawl and on a whim went into a clothes shop. The owner, Miss Crystal, was in dire need of help, so now I’m assisting a tailor! She gave me these to wear,” he said and indicated to himself and the new suit of clothes he wore. Charcoal grey trousers and a fitted coat with a purple vest and a soft, white shirt looked crisp and new and contrasted sharply with his poor, dusty shoes. “Need to do something about the footwear yet, but quite the perk. I’ve finally found something I can do where I can put my skills to use! It’s a really nice shop, Molly. You’d love the clothes. And as I’ll be making more coin I’ve arranged with the tavern keeper to move us from this charity closet to a regular room down the hall tomorrow—three silvers a night. Still just one bed, but bigger.” He smoothed his hand over the thin blanket they both slept under. “A little better. Things are going to get better soon, right?” Molly leaned against the wall and stared at his feet. Gustav sighed. “Right.”

            Gustav removed his jacket and vest and set them carefully on a hook on the wall and his worn out shoes underneath that and next to Molly’s thigh-high boots which he hadn’t worn in the three weeks since they arrived. He lit the tiny oil lamp near the bedstead and sat down with his left leg folded under him so that he could face him. He pulled from his bag his old clothes, a paper-wrapped bundle containing a loaf of day-old bread, and a wedge of questionable cheese. “I made two whole silver this morning which went to back rent of this closet, but tomorrow, I’ll have much, much more! I promise, this is the last lousy meal I’ll give you,” he said waving it at him. “I did get you a treat if you’ll take your lessons. Come here,” he said and patted the space on the bed to his left. It took some doing, but Molly did push off the wall and do as he asked. “Good!” Gustav cried, flipped his long braid of ashy hair over his shoulder and rolled up his sleeves. “Tonight we’re going to work on talking! Before I embarrass myself, would you care to speak unprompted?”

            To his shock and delight the tiefling’s brows came together slightly and he gave a sort of loud sigh.

            “Oh, that is very exciting, Molly. How about a hum?” He encouraged him to breath deeper, to try to hum and soon a spooky crackling growl of a noise emanated from his throat. A mildly frustrated look came over his face and his eyes darted up to meet Gustav’s.

            “Good! Good! Terrifying, but good!” his teacher cheered. This was almost as miraculous to Gustav as the day he’d learned to clean himself. “Now, how about a word?” He pulled the treat out of his bag—a single, shining, red apple. “Can you say ‘apple’? If so, you can have it~,” he sang. _“All of it.”_

            Molly’s mouth opened and he wet his lips. “Aaaaa…” he breathed, rasping the sound. “Aaaa...p—”

            “You can do it!”

            “Aaa—pple,” Molly croaked.

            “Huzzah!” Gustav cheered and tossed the apple in the air. Molly fumbled it, but caught it and stared at it for a beat with the hint of a smile tugging at his lips—the first Gustav had seen. He took a big, sloppy bite from the apple and ate it slowly, seeming to savor the sweet taste, so different from the bread and porridge that made up their daily diet.

            Gustav’s stomach grumbled and he satisfied himself with some bread and cheese. “Now,” he said between bites. “Some advanced level stuff. As you know, my name is Gustav Fletching. Can you say my name? I’d be happy if you did, so that if you wander out while I’m gone you can tell them to find me.” He brushed a lock of Molly’s hair that had fallen into his face and was making its way into his mouth with the apple back behind his horns. “Can you say Gustav?”

            “Gushtaff,” Molly whispered with his mouth full and his teacher laughed. “Gustaf,” he repeated a bit louder and clearer if imperfect.

            “Fletching.”

            “Fffech…”

 _“Fuh-_ letch…”

            “Fletch.”

            “-Ing.”

            “Ing.”

            Gustav laughed again, delighted both by the progress and Molly’s adorable responses which elicited another smile. “Fletching. Gustav Fletching,” he said, pointing to his own chest and Molly repeated it very well this time and his eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, this is quite excellent, my pupil! Alright. Now, you.” He pointed to Molly’s chest.

His bedraggled shirt had been laundered and repaired, the tear made by whatever it was that had surely killed him stitched shut, but the scar between his pectorals that it left behind showed, surrounded by dozens of thin lacerations where the neck gaped. “Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he said quietly and waited.

            The smile fell from Molly's face and his eyes narrowed. He stared at his friend for a beat.

 

_Two words scrawled on a parchment held up for his examination. "I'm afraid 'MT' won't pass muster as a proper name at the checkpoint," he says. "This will have to do, Mollymauk Tealeaf!"_

 

            “Gustav…” he said. His eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, the half-eaten apple dropping from his hands and onto the floor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My favorite line I've written in this chapter is: "There’s but the one of you that climaxes in Infernal, boyo.”_

            Gustav shouted in alarm and lunged to catch Molly as he went limp. “Oh no! No, please, come back to me. Come back, Molly, no!” He panicked and held him close, rapidly rubbing his back. Suddenly he felt him take a deep breath and held his own in order to listen carefully.

            “Gustav,” Molly whispered.

            “I’m so sorry, I pushed you too far, I’m sorry—”

            “Fffffuuuuck.”

            Gustav froze. “Come again?” he asked with a slight laugh and released him.

            Molly put his hands on Gustav’s shoulders for support and pushed back to look into his eyes. “Hi~,” he drawled sleepily.

            “Hi…! Are you alright?!”

            “Been better. But, yeah.”

            Gustav’s eyes teared up. He chuckled nervously and patted his arms. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

            Molly’s face twisted in pain.

 

_...a snowy landscape. Clash of metal. Shouts of agony, and then the darkness. The dirt in his nose, in his mouth as he claws his way up and out..._

 

            “Sort of, not really, it's all broken up in my head. Hard to think. I—” Brows arched, he stared at Gustav. “I died, didn’t I?”

            “Again. You died once before,” Gustav muttered. “Always thought perhaps you’d made that up.”

            Molly hung his head “Yeah, no. Fuck.”

            “Indeed,” Gustav whispered. “Molly, you just sort of snapped, and now you can speak! Oh, this is a vast improvement over last time—you couldn’t remember a single thing and it took so long for you to come back—!” His brows arched. “Do you remember me?”

 

_A handful of people, indistinct and shadowed, surround a campfire. He watches Gustav lift the needle over and over by fire light, drawing blue floss through maroon fabric. He looks up at him and says something he can’t quite catch..._

 

            “I do.” He lifted his chin and gave him a soft smile. His face screwed up again. “Oh you had to wipe my ass, I am so sorry, Gustav.”

            He laughed. “No worries. Been there, done that.”

            “Been there…?”

            “The last time. Old hat, really. Don’t worry. Just glad we’re over that. Do you remember what it was like, your last time around?”

            Molly pouted for a moment. “It’s hazy. Like I said, broken, missing. I can’t—there are—” He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m exhausted. _How?_ I did fuckall today!”

            “Well,” Gustav sighed. “Maybe whatever just happened took it out of you.” The silence of the room was cut by a loud rumble coming from the half-elf’s stomach.

            Molly cocked his head to one side and took in the man before him. Gustav was painfully thin and his eyes were tired. He remembered the apple that he had been eating and clicked his tongue to see it on the floor. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Molly muttered, got up, retrieved it and picked the dirt off of it. “You should have it. I’m just a damned parasite, you’ve been doing all the work.”

            Gustav put his hands up. “That was your reward. You earned it. Besides, we have bread and cheese, enough.”

            Molly grasped Gustav’s left hand. Before he placed the apple into it he let his thumb slowly trace over and caress his palm and felt rough calluses. “I’ve had some. It was very good.”

            Gustav blushed but acquiesced and they shared the rest of the meager food. In between small, slow bites he contemplated this new development. “Molly, I think perhaps this awakening of yours was triggered by my saying your name.”

            He smirked. “You don’t say?”

            Gustav beamed back, overjoyed to hear his friend crack a bad joke. “I do! Want to try it again?”

            “Mollymauk Tealeaf!” Molly shouted. They waited. Molly shook his head.

            Gustav took a turn. “Mollymauk Tealeaf?”

            Again, nothing.

            Molly tucked one leg under him and folded his arms. He hummed thoughtfully “Perhaps it’s expended its usefulness. Time for another one.”

            Gustav nodded in agreement and balled up the paper that the bread had come in. “Do you remember who gave you that name?”

            He grinned. “You did.”

            “I did.”

 

_...bright colors, festive music, dancing, singing, a crowd cheers and applauds under the big top and his heart races with anticipation and excitement..._

            The flash is more visceral than the ones he’s had so far, and the quick shifting of his perception and emotions so quickly from one scene to another causes him to wince as if he had been actually thrust into it. “In my mind just now, I saw a festival? A carnival?”

            Seeing his distress, Gustav patted his shoulder. “A carnival, yes. But, perhaps you shouldn’t think too hard about it, tonight. We both need a rest.” Gustav slipped off his shoes and hesitated. “We had been sleeping, uh, _together_ , but if you’d rather not, I—”

            Molly gave him a vaguely sultry look and slid into position on the left side of the bed with his back to Gustav. “Frankly, I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep otherwise.” He balled the thin pillow up under his head to support his horns and patted the narrow empty side behind him with his left hand.

            Gustav put out the light and settled in beside him a bit awkwardly. He had felt comfortable with a comatose Mollymauk, but an aware one, one that had just given him a look that ran his blood hot was a different story. He tried not to fidget too much, and had a hard time finding a good place for his hands. Finally, Molly gave an exasperated sigh, grasped his left in his, pulled it around his middle, and snuggled in. Gustav breathed in his scent and relaxed almost immediately. “I don’t think you should tax yourself with remembering, but if you want to ask me any questions, I’d be happy to fill you in. Just, don’t push yourself on my account.”

            Molly rubbed the back of his hand. “You are a wonderful person, you know that?”

            Gustav smiled and hummed softly as sleep started to drag him down.

 

.x.

            The following morning Gustav woke first and as the light increased through the tiny window, he nudged his bedmate just as he did every morning. “I’m sorry, but you’re on my arm,” he said softly and tried to pull it free. Molly groaned and doubled down, clutching the appendage tucked under his neck. “Molly, I have to go to work.” The thought that perhaps the night before had been a dream flashed through his mind and he nudged him again.

            “Nnnnno,” he replied, petulantly.

            Gustav sighed in relief and nudged him a third time. “Molly?”

            “Five more minutes,” he muttered.

            “Please?”

            “Ten.”

            “You just went up!”

            “Fifteen, then.”  
_“Molly!”_ Gustav laughed and tried to forcefully pull himself free and in a flash he found himself grappled and pinned by the wiry tiefling who grinned devilishly down on him.

            “Gotcha.”

            “Wh-what?”

            Molly’s eyes softened and he bent his head down and parted his lips, but before he could kiss his quarry Gustav’s eyes widened and he jerked his head out of the way.

            “D-don’t tease me!”

            As Molly’s grip loosened, Gustav quickly freed himself and leapt out of bed.

            “I-I didn’t mean—” Molly fell on his back.

 

_...lips caress his neck. A small hand moves under his shirt. He giggles. Across the tavern, Gustav looks away..._

 

            “I have to go,” Gustav repeated and quickly changed the subject as he dressed and laced up his shoes. “I can’t tell you what to do, but you should probably not leave the tavern in broad daylight alone. You’ve been to Zadash before and there could be unsavory people out there that knew you.”

            Molly folded his arms tightly around himself and looked up through the little window and a patch of white puffy cloud that floated by.

 

_...feet pounding on the pavement through the sprawl, crownsguard hot at his heels. A peel of laughter and a shout  of 'move move move!'..._

 

            Molly rubbed the bridge of his nose and breathed a light sigh. “I won’t leave the tavern. I promise.”

            A wave of guilt washed over Gustav as he saw the dejected look on his friend’s face. “Do you have any questions for me before I go? Anything you’ve been wondering about the past?”

            Molly met his eyes and pursed his lips. He clutched the collar of his shirt—ruined, formerly white, clean but stained, and skillfully repaired but with a mismatched blue thread—and pulled it down to expose the large scar in the center of his chest. “Know where I got this?”

            Gustav paled a little and leaned against the doorframe for support. “Yes and no. I don’t know quite how you got it, but I repaired your shirt. It was shredded and covered in dried blood when I found you.” He bit the inside of his lip to see the twist of pain on Molly’s face. “Might as well get it over with,” he muttered. “You were found in the road a few weeks before I caught up with you with only your clothes, wrapped in that tapestry,” he said, pointing to the bundle in the corner, “and clutching a note.”

            Molly’s mouth opened. “A note?” he asked, the first week or so after his return were a little hazy, but it came to him. A thick piece of parchment folded small, covered in marks he could not read. “That piece of paper I had! Do you have it still?”

            “Yes. Took some doing to get you to release it from your grip, but I’ve kept it safe for you. Would you like to see it?”

            Molly hesitated. “No. Not yet. I can’t…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Not yet.”

            “Anytime you want it, I’ll give it to you.”

            He nodded.

            “I have to go.”

            “Go,” Molly feigned a smile and waved him off. “Have a good day.”

 

            When the door had closed Molly stared at the pile of shining brocade covered with grave dirt and bloodstains for a moment, but no flash of disjointed memory came to him. He broke down. He pulled his knees up and stifled his sobs on his folded arms for a minute or so until the panic had passed. “What the fuck is going on?” he whispered. “I came back to life. And my memory is bloody mincemeat.” He sloughed out of bed to closely investigate the silvery fabric that had been his, feeling the texture and studying the symbols.

 

_...a festival day, bright and sunny. He passes large crowds, barkers, games, and the tapestry, bright and shiny new is draped over his shoulders..._

 

             “This is mine,” he whispered. “But why did I have it when I…” He took in how dirty it was and made a grisly assumption. “How am I supposed to care what that note says if I can’t fucking remember who left it! Show me, goddamnit!” He winced and clutched his head.

 

_...silhouettes, a handful of people that make his heart twist. No faces. No names. No voices. But they are there when he..._

            “That’s worse!” he protested and shoved the fabric under the bed. “Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck all of it. How am I supposed to care if I don’t know!” His voice echoed in the sparse little room. “Either show me or don’t, pick one!” He gnashed his teeth as the flash assaulted him.

 

_...a feeling of mortal peril. Something tall and broad bearing down on him, weapon raised, then a horrible crunching sound that comes from within..._

 

            He put his hands over his ears and clutched his head tightly. “No, not that, not that! Something nice, something pleasant, please!” he begged. “Let me remember something good!” Molly pushed past the dread and gloom, searching for light and found bright colors, voices, music, flashes of brightness and joy—the carnival.

 

_Faces and shapes a blur of sizes and colors dancing, singing, but one emerges again, now familiar to him, the crooked smile, uneven teeth, beautiful face, and soft, brown eyes..._

 

            ...of a half-elven man who doted on him these last few weeks and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Gustav,” he said, pouted and went back to leaning his chin on his folded arms. “He doesn’t deserve this. Why is he being so nice to me if he doesn’t want me? He must feel responsible. He’s just being kind. He doesn’t feel—” Molly shook his head. “He just a nice man. You need to give it a rest. Not everyone wants to fuck you, you know.” He blinked. “Do I know that? Or is it me? I want to fuck everyone? Oh, that’s just great. What kind of a person am I?”

            Molly sat down heavily on the bed and stared at the wall for a few moments, then slapped the tops of his thighs and sprang up into action. He pulled the ruined shirt off and did his best to clean up with the little wash basin on the table by the door, trying hard not to look too closely at the huge unfamiliar diamond-shaped scar over his sternum, surrounded by dozens more.

 

_He draws a bladed weapon over his forearm, intentionally, muttering something under his breath. The blade glows red._

 

            This flash left him with an uneasy relief. “Self-inflicted but not self _harming,_ ” he whispered and shuddered. “Nope, nope nope nope nope!” He pulled on Gustav’s discarded shirt and and combed his hair with his fingers. He noticed how long it had gotten and chuckled darkly. “Great. I can remember that my hair was shorter, but not why I fucking died. I can’t remember the people who buried me, who wrapped me up, who left me with a note, but emerging from the frozen ground? Almost freezing to death? Feeling lost and empty and soul-crushingly sad? Those highwaymen who beat the fuck out of me and stole my fucking sparkle!” He grasped his naked horns. “Bastards! They weren’t even worth the effort of removing them! What the fuck?!” Molly’s chest heaved and he stared at the angry face that glared back at him from the mirror. “I need a drink,” he fumed and headed downstairs.

 

.x.

            In the early evening Gustav returned to the Weeping Willow with a package wrapped in brown paper under one arm. Before he could go to the barkeep and inquire about moving their room, he heard a familiar laugh from the back corner of the tavern. Seated, surrounded by a half-dozen patrons, Mollymauk was holding court. He looked up from the cards splayed in front of him and grinned to split his face. “Ah, it would seem my chaperone has come to collect me, friends. I’ll have to take my leave.”

            There was a collective groan of disappointment as they tossed their cards in and a few coins jangled down onto the table. Molly thanked them, bowing effusively and scooped the money up before he sauntered over to the bar.

            Gustav’s mouth hung open a little.

            “I know, right? Astounding the difference a day makes.”

            “Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, absently.

            Molly picked at the lapels. “Didn’t think you’d mind. Mine was a little off-putting for entertaining purposes.” He nodded at the human bartender as she emerged from the back with a fresh keg. “Here you are, Maddie, your cards, returned, unmolested and clean as requested.”

            She grinned at him. “And my rental fee?” she asked in a thick brogue.

            Molly spread the coins out. Twenty-six silver pieces were counted, and Maddie pulled seven of them over and cupped them off the edge of the bar. “Thank you!” she piped.

Molly pushed more of them toward her, counting in threes three times. “Here’s three days’ rent for you, my dear. And can I get a solid gold for these ten?”

            Maddie chuckled and did as he asked. “Don’t spend it all in one place, Molly,” she advised.

            “No can do.” He reached out and grasped Gustav’s free hand. “Here, darling. Get yourself something nice.”

            Gustav blinked a few times, stood stiffly and did not look at the gold piece. “Have you been drinking?”

            Molly motioned to Maddie who looked back and forth at each of them for a beat. She gave a look that said she wasn’t sure what was going on but was sure she wanted no part of it.    “No, he hasn’t. Refused drinks from the patrons, too,” she said carefully.

Molly cocked a brow at him.

            “I did give him breakfast, though,” she added.

            “I _did_ get breakfast. Did you bring me food?” He stared up at Gustav with a smarmy, self-satisfied grin.

            “I—” Gustav stopped himself. “I’m gonna go move the room.”

            “Second door on the left,” Maddie said and handed him the key, which he took and swept up the stairs without another word.

 

“Ok,” she said when Gustav had disappeared from sight. “He should have slapped you.”

            Molly turned to slowly stare at her.

 _“I_ would have.”

            He made an exasperated face.

            “What? I think you’re lovely, Molly, but you were being a right little bitch right there. He slaves all day for you, you know?”

            “ _Thank you,_ Maddie,” he grumbled, hopped off the stool and hurried up the stairs.

.x.

            By the time Molly arrived, Gustav had finished moving their few belongings to the new, larger room. A wash basin stood to the right of the door and the bed was higher off the ground and looked like it might actually fit two people. A large dormer window behind the bed looked out onto the street. Molly stood in the doorway, but Gustav didn’t turn to face him as he removed his suit jacket and vest.

            Molly’s eyes scanned the room and fell on the lumped up, filthy pile of brocade which Gustav had also moved from their previous room and tucked into the far corner. He suddenly burst forward, ran toward it and threw the window open. Gustav turned, surprised by his action and watched as Molly scooped up the tapestry of the Platinum Dragon and hefted it out the window.  
            “What are you doing?!” Gustav cried, startled by his unprovoked aggression.

            “I hate this fucking thing!” Molly screamed as he forced the enormous wad of fabric through the opening. “It means nothing to me! It’s a hole! An empty hole! And I’m sick of looking at it!” The silver threads in the fabric shimmered in the last rays of the setting sun as it tumbled down from the second story to the street below. Molly watched it land with an unsatisfying thud. His chest heaved and he stood gripping the deep-set window frame for a moment before turning to face Gustav. “Ah. That’s better. Really opens the room up, don’t you think?”

            Gustav stared at him with wide eyes, arms folded and tense. “Have you lost your mind?”

            “Maybe? I don’t know why I’m alive, again, Gustav! And having what appeared to be _my shroud_ around wasn’t helping any,” he snarled.

            Gustav slowly sank down to sit on the bed, facing away from him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Molly clenched his fists. “For what? You didn’t bring me back, did you?!” He saw the other man wince and shook his head. “I’m not angry at you, I’m angry in general. My brain is shredded cabbage...” Gustav made to mutter another apology and Molly stomped his foot down. “Stop that! You have nothing to be sorry for! You have done nothing but be selfless and kind to me! Even though I barely know you. I said I remember you, but my memory is broken, Gustav. It’s like watching someone else’s life through a dirty window, in passing, while running at full speed. All I really know is from the point when you found me on the road. What am I to you? How is that you care for me so much, _but you don’t want me?”_

An awful silence filled the room. Molly leaned against the far wall and stared at the back of Gustav’s head. After a few moments passed, he took a deep breath, then spoke.

            “I know you, Mollymauk. But I let myself forget,” Gustav whispered. “You belong to everyone and no one. You’re gregarious and charming and everyone loves you. You’re so bright, you shine, and I have always been in awe of that. But I know you. You can charm anyone you want. Like in the tavern, today.” His voice hitched and he pressed his hands over his eyes.

            “But they’re rubes,” Molly replied, an unfamiliar sick feeling beginning to wash over him. “Those people down there were _nothing_ to me _._ I do that to survive, not to feel loved. So what if they love me?”

Gustav flinched and Molly gasped. He rounded the bed, flopped down to his knees in front Gustav and threw his arms around him. Gustav reeled back but couldn’t avoid the embrace. His whole body tensed.

“I am such an arsehole,” Molly muttered. “I get it now. You had every right to think that I was teasing you. And here I did nothing but reinforce that image, tonight. I am _so_ sorry. I never meant to hurt you! I tried to kiss you this morning because I thought maybe you’d like it! I wanted to... I just want to tell you… Dammit, I’m terrible at being sincere.”

            Gustav lifted his chin and peeked out between his fingers at the top of Molly’s head and slowly reached out to tentatively touch his shoulders.

            Molly took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead against his chest, carefully and instinctually keeping his horns at a safe distance. He took in Gustav’s scent. “I don’t have a good memory of you or how I felt about you, then. And I know it’s been just under twenty-four hours since I’ve been properly conscious, but I do remember how you took care of me since I’ve been back. How you kept me warm when we were freezing outside, how you helped me walk, fed me, cleaned me, and talked to me about everything and nothing and damned near broke yourself to protect me.” His voice dropped to a whisper, tinged with a tremor of raw emotion. “You make me feel safe, and comforted, and, and... I wanted to say thank you. Please forgive me. I just wanted to show you how I feel about you.”

            Gustav’s body relaxed and he clutched Molly, pulled him closer and buried his face in his hair. “Of course I forgive you,” he breathed.

.x.

            They sat like that for a long while as the last light of day faded, leaving them in soft grey shadows. Gustav slowly straightened up and coaxed Molly to let him go. “I got you presents,” he said quietly with a hint of an embarrassed laugh and at last Molly pulled back and looked up at him from his crouched position on the floor.

            “Presents? Oh, wow, that stings,” he said sheepishly. Gustav chuckled and reached for the brown-paper wrapped package. Molly got up and sat on the bed cross-legged, looking mildly bewildered. “I hardly think I deserve to get presents from you, today.”

            “Hush,” Gustav quietly insisted. “There are three of them, and only one is from me.” He undid the string and unfolded the paper to reveal a simple, ruffled shirt of fine linen and a long wrap skirt. “My employer Miss Crystal wants you to have this.”

            Molly’s eyes glistened as he took the garments from him and held them up. Gustav reached over and lit the oil lamp on the wall and smiled to see his reaction.

            “This is beautiful,” he said softly. “She just _gave_ it to you?”

            “She makes them for refugees as a charitable gesture in her spare time. After I told her about you and the condition of your wardrobe, she insisted you have them.”

            Molly hugged the clothes to himself. “You told her about me?”

            “Apparently you can charm people without even having to meet them.”

            He made a face. “Gustav, darling, did it not occur to you that _you_ were the one doing the charming? I can’t be the only person who finds you wonderful.”

            Gustav blushed and hastily withdrew another smaller parcel from the paper wrappings.      “And a woman who wishes to interview you gave us these.”

            Molly blinked a few times. “Interview me?”

            “For a job reading cards at her tea shop. When I heard she was looking for something like that I thought perhaps you wouldn’t hate it. And I suppose I did say some nice things about you. Nice enough for her to give us…”

            “Chocolate!” Molly piped. “I can smell it from here! Oh, is it really?”

            Gustav grinned and opened the little packet. Inside were two small, round discs of dark chocolate. Nothing too fancy, but far more decadent than either of them had enjoyed in a very long time. Molly gingerly picked up his piece and popped it in his mouth. “Mmmmmm.” His tail flicked back and forth happily, making soft thudding sounds on the bed. “Sho goohd!”

            “You can come with me tomorrow and see if you’d like to help her. It’s only a few doors down from Miss Crystal’s shop.”

            He nodded and watched Gustav carefully put his piece back in the wrapper for later. Molly straightened up as an idea came to him. He reached out quickly and snatched the little chocolate from him. Gustav protested, but Molly grinned devilishly and popped it in his mouth. He let the chocolate dissolve on his tongue a little as he lowered his lids, pointed to his mouth, and leaned in, watching closely for permission.

            Gustav froze for a moment and held his breath. He nodded slightly and leaned forward to meet him.

            Molly’s soft, warm, sweetened lips met his and a forked tongue gently pushed its way between his teeth, depositing the chocolate as it went. Gustav flushed as his heart raced with excitement. Molly ran his fingers along the nape of his neck, up and into his hair, pulling him down with him and Gustav found himself falling into his arms. He returned his kiss slowly, carefully, avoiding the sharp canine teeth and reveling in the skillfulness of his tongue. Molly hummed contentedly and deftly positioned himself under him, tangling his legs with his tail and caressing his face as he kissed him.

            When he came up for air, Gustav was positively glowing. Any traces of awkward embarrassment were gone. “That’s pretty good chocolate,” he said quietly, staring down at the marvelous creature below him.

            Molly hummed again, relishing Gustav’s confident air. Something about that statement reminded him so he gave him a feisty look. “You said _three_ presents.”

            Gustav laughed and Molly decided that this was the best sound he had ever heard.

“I did…” he said and bent to kiss him a few more times, so softly and gently it seemed to entrance his partner. Molly’s eyelids fluttered and he looked up at him in wonder. “If you like, I thought of a new name for you.”

            Molly smiled. “Oh, well, that depends on what it is. Did you think of it before or after I pissed you off?”

            Gustav chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

            “And so?” Molly asked. “Come on, don’t make me wait, Gustav.” He wriggled a little, sliding his pelvis to press himself against the inside of his thigh.

            Gustav gasped and stuttered. “D-do you want the name, or, um—”

            “Both,” he replied quickly, staring intently into his eyes. “First one, then the other.”

            “Ok, uh, I still want to call you Molly. I don’t want that to change and I don’t think you do, either,” Gustav managed to say as his blood pounded in his ears. “I thought… maybe… Moliggan Brightside.”

            Molly repeated it once and grinned. “Moliggan Brightside. I’ll take it. Thank you, Gustav. And I’ll take you, too, if you don’t mind.” He arched his back a little and rubbed against him, eliciting a soft moan that drove the tiefling wild with desire.

            “Gods, Molly…” he breathed. “I… Molly, I… I’m not…”

            “Not what?” he said between the kisses he was planting ever lower down his neck.

            “Not… as _experienced_ as you are.”

            “Dudn’tmadder,” he mumbled from the dip of his collarbone.

            “But, I’ve never…”

            The word ‘never’ put the brakes on quite suddenly and Molly lay back and looked up at him with a mix of concern and confusion. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before?”

            “I _have,_ but...not...um, not…” Gustav trembled, hovering over his partner, hands planted on either side of him and had to avert his eyes. “Um, sorry, I, ah…” Gustav said softly, trying to work up the courage. “I don’t think you would, really, but just in case, please don’t, um, please don’t pull my hair, or hit me, or h-hurt me. Please.”

            Molly’s stomach flipped as rage boiled like a volcano from his brain down to his heart and back again. He took a deep breath and his voice came out at a low, almost menacing growl. “Who do I have to kill?”

            Gustav clenched his jaw. “He’s dead.”

            “Lucky him,” he rumbled.

            “Molly, I... Just… be gentle?”

            He collected himself and refocused on the task at hand. “Oh, Gustav, I’ll do you one better,” Molly whispered and reached under his shirt to brush fingertips over Gustav’s skin. “I’ll put you in complete control.”

 

.x.

            Molly glided down the stairs the following morning like an actress entering the stage about to break into song. He twirled and let the wrap skirt swirl a little as he hit the floor (completely coincidentally decent in the direction of the wrap) and stepped lightly to the bar. “Good morning, Maddie!” he chimed, greeting the tavern keeper. Gustav followed slowly behind, watching him dance with a soft bemused look.

            “And a good morning to you, Mr. Molly!” she called back, observing the pair carefully. “I dare say I’m surprised to see you so lively given the ruckus we were all subjected to last night!” Her words were harsh, but there was a devious grin curling her lips. Gustav went pale and stammered, but Molly touched his arm as if to say ‘I’ve got this’.

            “Oh, I do apologize Miss Maddie. As it turns out, my partner is a screamer.”

            Gustav went from white to red in an instant.

            Maddie laughed. “You’re an awful liar, you know that? There’s but the one of you that climaxes in Infernal, boyo.”

            Molly laughed back, slapped the bar and wagged his finger at her. “You got me there, Maddie. I’d say we’d try our level best to keep it down in the future, but that would be patently untrue.” Molly turned and headed for the door, dragging his tail over Gustav’s thighs as he went. “See you later!”

            “You’re going out?!”

            “We are!”

            “Have a good day, you terrible pest!”

.x.

            As they stepped outside Molly took a deep breath of the cool morning air. “I think she’s sweet on me, what do you think?”

            Gustav snickered. “Great minds think alike. We’re both sweet on you and we both _know_ you’re a terrible pest,” he said and laced his arm in Molly’s as he led him off toward the Interstead Sprawl. “Now, as we have both so thoroughly befouled each other, I think a bath is in order before I introduce you to my boss.”

            “Gustav, you silver-tongued romantic, great minds _do_ think alike. Onward!” Molly agreed.

            As they rounded the corner Gustav suddenly stopped and looked up. “Ah, wait a second. Is that our window up there?” he asked.

            “Could be.”

            He looked down at the street. “It’s gone,” he said.

            “What’s…?” Molly began then remembered his impulsive removal of the tapestry-shroud the night before.

            “Someone stole it.”

            Molly snorted and broke out into a loud, surprised laugh, startling Gustav. “Ha! It’s gone!” he cheered, squeezed the thin arm that looped through his and smiled up at him. “It’s _gone.”_ He grinned to split his face, looked down the street and squinted a little in the bright sunshine.

            Gustav smiled back and with his free hand tucked some of Molly’s now longish violet hair over his right horn and brushed the back of his fingers against the tattooed side of his face. “It’s gone.”

 

.x.

            They cleaned up in a communal bath that didn’t afford them any privacy, but Molly managed to make an open space for them by simply disrobing and striding into the room like he owned the place. A naked, strikingly beautiful, well-endowed, heavily tattooed and scarred tiefling with the confidence of a god was enough to send the half-dozen or so patrons scrambling for the far reaches of the pool, and some right out of the room altogether.

            Molly carefully washed Gustav’s hair and did a commendable job restraining himself from being too intimate in a public place. He had already spent a few of his patience points earlier in the morning and understood that his partner had his limits. He hadn’t had a flash of memory for the last day or so, so this one took him a little by surprise.

 

_In an unfamiliar tavern he is surrounded by faces he can’t place and they are all laughing at how red Gustav’s face has gotten. He excuses himself and quickly leaves._

            “I’m gonna be better this time,” Molly muttered as he rinsed his long, silky locks.

            “What’s that?”

            “I said, that’s better.”

            Gustav turned to face him. “Alright, my turn.”

            Molly put his back to him and let him work the soap into his hair, luxuriating as his scalp was massaged. He felt Gustav expertly clean around his horns, getting under them with a washcloth as he had many times before. Molly hummed with pleasure, and a million ways to return that sentiment flitted happily through his mind.

            “Alright, my pest, rinse,” Gustav said and dumped a bucket of water over his head. “We’ll be late if you lollygag.”

            Molly glowered at him, wiping the soapy water from his face. As Gustav slipped his skinny body quickly into the bath proper he laughed at the look on Molly’s face and the sound of it was like a shot of liquor, a comfortable burning heat that warmed his heart and made it impossible to even pretend to be grumpy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m serious! Sedition is a serious crime in the Empire, Molly!” he barked and jogged back upstairs._   
>  _Molly shook his head and quickly followed._   
>  _“I think you’re overreacting.”_   
>  _“I think you don’t remember ever having to run!"_

            Two days before, just before noon, Gustav was relieved from a day-labor job helping to pave Zadash’s streets. He had been unable to lift the heavy paving stones without a tremendous amount of effort and was doing more to hinder than help.

            He tried to keep his chin high as he walked, his usual loping gait significantly subdued, leaden and heavy. Everything hurt. Two copper pieces for his effort jingled in his pocket; neither enough to pay the day’s rent on their charity closet nor unpaid night before. Maddie was gracious and lenient, but he didn’t want to press their luck. His stomach rebelled as he passed a bakery, the scent of fresh bread pulling at his whole being. Perhaps he could steal a little loaf—nothing so large that anyone would mind terribly. A Crown’s Guard passed him and met his eye for just a moment, accurately profiling the thin man in the worn-out suit and Gustav hurried on. _‘What am I going to do?’_ he thought. _‘I came here because I thought this was my purpose. To help him recover. I could have just gone back there. But he had to stumble into my path again. It_ must _be for a reason, but what does it matter if I am bound to fail him anyway?’_ Angry tears sprang to his eyes and he looked up at the sky as if searching for an answer from the midday sun. Instead, his eyes rested on a moon.

            The words ‘Bulan Outfitters’ painted in black surrounded the image of a silver crescent moon on a purple background of a sign hung out for the shop in front of which Gustav had suddenly found himself. He looked in the dirty window and saw a few patrons and a hint of the clothing items for sale within. A lifetime ago he had spent long nights mending, cutting, patterning, and embroidering costumes for the members of his troup and he grew wistful enough to want to take a peek.

            As he entered a bell above the door rang to announce his presence and he became the fifth person in a twenty-by-twenty-foot space. A dwarven man close to the front of the shop flipped through fabric samples, a gnomish woman pinned the hem of a dress worn by a darkly tanned human woman standing on a stool in the middle of the room, and a heavyset red-colored tiefling woman with short horns leaned against the counter.

            “I’ll be right with you!” piped the gnome woman from under the dress.

            “Just looking, don’t worry about me,” he chimed. Each patron eyed him suspiciously and he remembered his appearance: tall, but one-hundred-pounds-wet, wearing a drab, tattered, and stained suit. But the garments hanging from the walls were clean and crisp and his eye was drawn to them, analyzing their construction. Each was unhemmed, ready to be fitted to the wearer as with the woman in the center of the room.

            The dwarf in the corner let out a huff and turned to face them. “I just cannot decide. Miss Crystal you simply must help me.”

            “Not before she helps me,” barked the tiefling at the counter.

            The gnome called Miss Crystal poked her head around the from the skirt. “Just a minute longer!” Her eyes were large, black, and soulful in a faintly lined face. Her kinky dark-brown hair was streaked with grey and worn up in a huge puff nearly the size of her entire head. She pulled another pin from her wristband pincushion and sucked in a breath as she stabbed herself again in her haste.

            “Those are lovely colors.” Gustav observed the dwarf held five samples of a silk damask, all of which were a shade of blue. He dialed his showmanship to eleven and bowed slightly to speak to him. “Would you mind if I asked what the occasion might be?”

            The dwarf gave him a look but seemed grateful to have someone to talk to. “My son is getting married. I don’t know which of these would make the best vest.”

            “Does he bear your resemblance? Same coloring?”

            “Y-yes. He does.”

            Gustav leaned back and the dwarf held the samples up to his chest, looking hopeful. “May I?” he asked and took them from him. “This one,” Gustav said after feeling each sample. “If he has your eyes, this one will be best.”

            “Ah, very good! Thank you! Miss Crystal, this one will do. I’ll leave it here,” he said, placed it on a display table and exited the shop. She looked up from her hem, to the door, then to Gustav and gave him a perplexed look.

            Gustav approached the fitting and cleared his throat nervously. “Excuse me, Miss Crystal, you seem as though you could use some assistance.”

            “Seems to me you’ve already assisted!”

            “I’ve had some experience, if you like I could—”

            “Great!” she cried and in a fluid motion slipped the pincushion from her wrist, handed it to him and swung around to help the woman at the register. “She’s almost done, finish pinning that up.”

            The woman on the stool in the unfinished dress blinked down at him with a look of dismay, but he put one hand to his heart and the one holding the pincushion extended as he bowed deeply. “I would be pleased to be of assistance to you, young Miss.”

            The woman relaxed and nodded approval and in moments Gustav had finished pinning the hem and she retreated to the folding screen at the back of the room to change. Crystal wrapped up the tiefling woman’s purchase, then made final arrangements with the lady with the dress and then they were alone in the shop.

            “Woo! Well, ok. Who sent you?” Crystal asked brightly from her perch behind the register.

            “No one, I just happened to be passing by.”

            “Damn. Thought for sure there was some divine intervention, there. Been praying all morning for help. And the way you handled Mr. Rockbladder was downright saintly. You lookin’ for work?”

            “I am indeed.”

            “Got a name?”

            “Gustav Fletching.”

            She pointed to herself with her thumb. “Crystal Bulan. When can you start?”

            “Now?”

            “No good,” she said and pointed emphatically to the door. Gustav’s heart sank. “Go flip the sign.”

            He loped to the door and looked around, puzzled.

            She sighed. “The sign that says _‘closed’.”_

            He did so and saw that the side that had been facing out said ‘open’.  
            “That’s lunch!” she chimed and clapped her hands. “Tell ya what. You work for me this afternoon gratis and I’ll give you lunch, and I’ll loan you a suit—” Crystal jumped down from the stool, crossed the room and grabbed a pole with a hook on it. “You are not wearing that disaster another second in here.” She pulled a charcoal grey suit from a hook high on the wall and swung it over to him. “Change,” she ordered, pointing to the folding screen. “I’ll baste you up for now. We’ll lunch, you work this afternoon, and if I like you, you take the suit home and come back tomorrow at nine bells at say, one gold?”

            Gustav blinked in disbelief. “A week?”

            “A day, you weirdo. I’m cheap, but not that cheap! My last assistant bailed on me two weeks ago for the Tri-Spire. I’m behind so I can’t afford to pay much yet. If you stick around and it works out, we’ll talk raise. Deal?”

            Gustav emerged from the folding screen dressed in the crisp, pressed suit of clothes. It hung a bit off his skinny frame, but the transformation was startling. He flipped his braid from front to back and made a low bow. “Miss Crystal, you have yourself a deal!”

 

.x.

            As they walked, Gustav told Molly what had transpired the day before when he’d stumbled upon a dream job and when he reached the end of the tale they had arrived in front of Bulan Outfitters. The ‘closed’ sign had not yet been flipped.

“You’ll like her,” Gustav said. “She’s a real character.”

            Molly nodded, clinging to his arm and narrowed his eyes at the sign.

            “Are you alright, Molly?”

            “Just feeling like a right heel. You worked hard for me yesterday. I should have appreciated it, but I was so wrapped up in my own bullshit.” He bit the inside of his lip remembering the callous way he pushed the gold he’d made playing cards into Gustav’s hand.

            “You feel badly about what you did?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.”

            Molly looked slowly up at him, but rather than giving him a smirk, Gustav smiled.

            “It means you’re growing, that you’re being responsible. I’m proud of you.”

            Molly straightened his back and beamed up at him. “Be glad your boss gave me a skirt because I am so turned on right now.”

            Gustav flushed and stammered as the sign was flipped, the door opened, and Crystal Bulan poked her poof-topped head out and greeted them. “Ah! This must be Molly. Good morning, come in!”

            Molly gave Gustav’s arm a squeeze then followed the little gnome woman inside.

Gustav shook his head, pursed his lips to suppress a grin, and greeted his employer as he entered. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought him along. I’d like him to speak with E'leth when the tea shop opens later.”

            “Not at all!” Crystal declared, putting her fists on her hips and looking Molly up and down. “Looks good,” she said. “Skirt’s a little short, but passable.”

            “It’s wonderful,” Molly put his hands together and gave her a little bow. “I’m extremely grateful for your generosity. I understand you make things like this for charity?”

            “I do. When I can. Been busy lately, but hopefully Gustav will help free up some of my time. A bunch of us do what we can for folks. I’m a member of the Lesser Zadash Charitable Alliance or ‘LeZCA’, if you will.”

            “Ah! With Miss Maddie from the Weeping Willow!” Molly exclaimed. “Then it would seem we have dipped rather heavily into your well. Thank you.”

            Gustav watched Molly with a keen, beguiled interest as he schmoozed his boss.

            “So, you’re not working yet. Wanna earn some lunch?”

            “Absolutely, but you’ll find I’m rather useless. Isn’t that right, Gustav?”

            He stammered something about cards but didn’t argue.

            “He’s sweet, isn’t he? I’m afraid that unless you’d like me to stand around and look pretty, I won’t be of much help.”

            Crystal eyed him carefully and snapped her fingers. “Yep. That will do.” She bustled off behind the counter and hefted several boxes up. From the first one she pulled a few items out, eyeballed the tiefling’s frame, nodded and tossed him a shirt. “Change. We have alterations to do and dressing a dummy’s a lot harder than having a living model.”

            Molly’s chest swelled. “A model! I’d be honored!"

 

            Crystal and Gustav worked all morning with Molly occasionally helping, but mostly lounging around and looking fabulous while he modeled Crystal’s work. He sold a top to a young halfling man who was clearly smitten with him. “Tell ya what, if E'leth doesn’t want ya, I’ll throw you a coin or two to do that all day!”

            “Oh, please do not encourage him!” Gustav wailed.

            Crystal laughed and directed Molly to her friend’s business down the street. “Sign says ‘Serene Tea Shoppe’. Can’t miss it.”

 

.x.

            The tea shop a few doors down was in a space smaller than Bulan Outfitters—a longer, thinner room with higher ceilings. Three customers sat at two small round tables. At one, a young elven woman who had the trappings of a traveler enjoyed a cup of a dark brown tea and a plate of biscuits. At the other, a couple leaned toward each other in conversation over a pot with two small cups of a pale, yellow brew. Three other tables stood empty. The walls were decorated with tapestries and strings of beads and three pendant oil lamps hung from the ceiling and offered a warm, dim light. The back wall was lined almost floor to ceiling with tins of various shapes and sizes labeled “Plum Black”, “Mint Herb” and words in other languages written in common script such as “Orn Nychaki”, “Aen Tyn”, and “Tirakan Muttu”. Molly knew the word “black” and knew it meant a kind of tea, but that was about the extent of his knowledge. As he walked in, the scent of various teas wafted around him in the warm, cozy space. He leaned against the counter and waited for the proprietor to emerge from the doorway behind it. To his left, two copper pots rested on metal stands gently heated by oil lamps, and a large samovar stood against the wall. Its old, loose spigot dripped occasionally into a white porcelain cup. “Oh, I could move in here,” he muttered to himself.

            Finally, a middle-aged woman with greying black hair returned to the counter carrying a large tin marked ‘Zemni Silver Tips First Flush’ and placed it on the shelf behind her. “Hello, how can I help you?” She was tall and broad with an olive skin tone and a strange sort of underbite that seemed off for a human, but as she spoke Molly could see a hint of small tusks.

            “This is a really lovely spot you’ve got here,” Molly drawled, leaning his chin in his palm.

            “Thanks,” she replied and folded her arms. “Can I get you something?”

            “I’m not sure. I’m not very well versed in tea. Surprise me.”

            E'leth frowned and raised a brow. “I’d be happy to, but I have a feeling you’re trying to sell me something. If so, I don’t accept solicitations.”

            Molly pouted and stopped leaning on the counter. “Apologies, Miss E'leth. I’m actually here because my friend said I should ask you about card reading.”

            Her expression changed as she gave him a closer look and took in the familiar frilly shirt and wrap skirt that Crystal gave out for charity. “You’re Molly! Aw, you should have said so. You really sounded like maybe you were here to pitch something.” She laughed. “Yeah, I’m interested in maybe hiring you. Gustav certainly sang your praises, but I’ll be the judge of that. Can you show me what you can do?”

            Molly held out his hands. “Would if I had some cards to work with. I’m afraid mine are long gone.”

            She pursed her lips together and her standoffish demeanor slipped a little. “I’m so sorry. Here, you can use these if you like.” She pulled a deck wrapped in a pale blue silk out from under the counter. “I know that’s kind of weird, though, right? To use another person’s cards?”

            “Normally, yes. I wouldn’t want to put my energy into someone else’s deck, but beggars, we cannot be choosers,” he agreed and reverently took them from her. “Shall I read you, Miss E'leth?”

            E'leth shrugged a little and let Molly lead her to one of the empty tables. He shuffled the deck, sliding the cards in his hands gently a few times then fanned them out. Molly looked deep into her eyes and asked her to select three cards which he then placed on the table face down.

While watching her reaction, Molly touched a finger to the middle card. “The first card represents your present.” He flipped it over and raised a brow. “The eight of cups. There was a disappointment recently, but now you feel you’re able to let go of that disappointment.” She shifted her weight and her brows came up as she sucked in a breath. Her reactions were almost too good, and he wondered who was playing whom, but decided to go for it, regardless.

“The next card represents the future,” he said and flipped over the queen of cups. “Ah, what a queen you are! Now that you can move on from that,” he said, motioning to the eight of cups, “You’ll be able to focus and make the things you’ve wanted to happen, really happen. You’ve had a great idea you were unsure of, and this says it’s going to work.” E'leth shifted again and pursed her lips and the elven patron at the table to their right looked over and stared at the proceedings.

“Lastly, the past. This will indicate what might hold you back or push you forward from your plans.” The magician looked back at them. “Hm. This is an empowering card. There’s something that you had, but it left you unfulfilled. This thing gave you as much as it could, but you wanted more. You know now not to settle for second best. Pursue excellence and you’ll see the results you want.” He wove his fingers together and grinned at her.

            E'leth smiled back. “I mean, it’s all bullshit, right? But damn, you’re hired.”

            Molly blinked at her for a moment then exploded with laughter. “Tell me, what happened to the previous reader?”

            “My nephew was doing the readings. It was my idea. Thought it would help business and would help the vibe in here. He was ok, but he wasn’t really into it. He signed up with the Righteous Brand, instead. I tried to keep him here, but it was what he wanted to do.”

            “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Well, I hope I can help. What can you offer me in the way of coin?”

            “Reading fee is two silver, you get half. I know it’s not much, but if you sell them tea you get twenty percent.”

            Molly was about to ask if he could get free tea while he was there when they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The elven patron had approached the table and held up two shining coins. “Could I get a reading, please?”

            Molly gave a lopsided grin, and as E'leth got up she offered her the vacated seat, shaking her head in disbelief as she went to pour him a cup.

 

.x.

            Gustav and Molly fell into a comfortable rhythm of easy work, decent money, and near-constant intimacy. Gustav took to tailoring every-day wear and was a great help to Crystal. In short order her business was booming, and his pay was increased. He and Molly moved to an even larger room in the Weeping Willow and enjoyed good food and entertainment on a regular basis.

            Molly and E'leth became friends, and vicariously he befriended all her regulars and though he didn’t make much, it was enough for him to feel as though he were helping.

 

About a month after he had begun to read tarot at Serene Tea, a middle-aged halfling man entered the shop and strode to the counter, stretching his arms wide as he did so. “E'leth, my love!” he sang in a thin Nicodranan accent. “Your Leo’renard has returned!”

            Molly watched him with an intense curiosity both for the look of death that E'leth gave him and because he presented quite a character. Fixed across his back were three dark, distressed, wooden boxes bound together with leather straps. A large pack and various items hanging from it and his belt indicated he was a seasoned traveler. His face was lined and tanned, and his grey hair sprouted wildly out from under a red felt cap with a feather stuck through the band.

            E'leth tightly folded her arms and glared at him. “I thought I told you not to darken my doorstep, you vagabond,” she grumbled and her face twisted as if trying very hard to suppress a smile.

            “Oh, but you know I bring only light wherever I step, and it glows ever-brighter the nearer I come to you,” Leo-renard gushed, bowed slightly and snapped his fingers, flourishing a perfect yellow rose.

            E'leth sighed heavily, plucked it from his fingers, and placed it next to the samovar then poured him a cup of tea. “How long will you be in residence this time?”

            “Who can tell?” he sang, putting a hand to his heart and gesturing to the ceiling with the other. “I go where the wind takes me, when it will.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ll have to find a different table. Yours is currently occupied.”

            Molly straightened up. “That’s right,” he purred. “Unless you’d like to fight me for it, Vagabond Leo-renard.”

            He pivoted on his left foot and beamed at Molly. He glanced at the purple tiefling’s fanciful getup; colorful shirt and skirt, layered in tasseled scarves, glass baubles hanging from his scarred neck and wrists and over and through the piercings in his horns.

            “Oh?” he asked, brow raised, “Pray tell, madam, who might you be?”

            “Leo!” E'leth scolded. “Molly’s a man!”

            Molly waved to dismiss E'leth’s concern. “Call me what you like, it doesn’t matter to me. But my name is Moliggan Brightside, fortune-teller.”

            Leo-renard reached for Molly’s extended hand and kissed it. “ _Enchantee_ , Mr. Brightside. I hope we become fast friends!”

 

            Leo, as E'leth called him, was a traveling troubadour. He set up camp at the table two down from Molly’s in the corner by the door and over the next several weeks serenaded the patrons with soft music played on one of three stringed instruments. They did as Leo had hoped and became friends and after only a short while Molly asked if he could try his hand at the sleek, long-necked, seven-stringed instrument with the rounded, teardrop-shaped resonator he often played. Gustav was puzzled but intrigued the day the three of them went instrument shopping so that Molly could get a bağlama saz of his own and he began studying in earnest. After a short lesson every day and practice night after night, he slowly improved until he could pluck out a tune fairly well. Molly had a good ear for music and Leo taught him some songs that he had gathered from his many travels.

 

.x.

            Molly and Gustav had lived happily in Zadash for almost four months when one morning at breakfast, at their usual table against the far wall in the Weeping Willow tavern, their comfortable peace was broken.

            Three Crownsguard and another uniformed officer leading them entered the building. This alone didn’t garner their attention as they chatted. Molly was mentioning that Leo-renard had said he might be leaving soon and that he was sad to see his teacher go when he saw Gustav push his shoulders back and his eyes snap to the right. He shuddered and followed his gaze.

            Two of the Crownsguard had moved to flank the small bar and all three of them leveled weapons at the tavern-keeper.

            “Maddie Gormley,” the higher-ranking officer stated. “You are under arrest for seditious acts against the Crown. Will you come peacefully?”

            “What the…” Molly began but Gustav clamped his left hand tightly over Molly’s right forearm and held it to the table.

            “Don’t,” he begged.

            “But…?”

            “Please!” he hissed.

            Maddie’s eyes darted over to the pair, the only patrons in the tavern at this time of day, and twitched her head in a rapid shake that echoed Gustav’s sentiment. Molly trembled with anger as she agreed and was led away in manacles.

            “What the fuck?!” Molly boomed when they were gone.

            “You can’t help her!” Gustav cried.

            “Like hell I can’t!”

            “Alright, let me rephrase that. You might stop them from arresting her, but if you get involved…”

            “She’s our friend!”

            “She is, but she knew what she was getting into and she didn’t want us to go down with her.”

            Molly sank back down into his seat. “What is this about?”

            “The LeZCA. It’s not just a charitable organization. Maddie told me a few days ago. You were sleeping in and we just got to chatting.” Gustav paled and rubbed his face. “Oh. Oh no.”

            “What, Gustav? What more?”

            “We might be dragged into this, nonetheless. If they have also implicated E'leth and Crystal, they are our employers, Maddie is our landlord…” He got up and glanced down at the half-finished breakfast he no longer wanted. “We have to go.”

            “What?! Talk sense! This is madness!”

            “I’m serious! Sedition is a serious crime in the Empire, Molly!” he barked and jogged back upstairs.

            Molly shook his head and quickly followed.

            “I think you’re overreacting.”

            “I think you don’t remember ever having to run! Not a few times our troupe had to pull stakes and flee because one of us had done something untoward or highly illegal (you were often a culprit as I recall) or else doom all of us to lengthy jail time or worse.” He glanced over his shoulder with a pleading look as he pulled clothes from drawers. “I did jail once. It wasn’t great. We need to go.”

            Molly fumed and clenched his fists. He muttered something terrible in Infernal as he watched Gustav hurriedly cram their meager belongings into a bag. “Fine. But we take Crystal and E'leth with us.”

            Gustav paused and looked at the angry, hurt look on his partner’s face. “Agreed.”

 

.x.

            It was hard to not appear hurried as they quickly walked the back way to the shops with their packs and Molly’s saz strapped to their backs, but they made it before either Bulan Outfitters or the tea shop were to open. Gustav knocked a few times on the outfitter’s back door and called out for Crystal. There was an agonizing few moments when they weren’t sure if they had made it in time before she opened the door and started to express her surprise. They slipped in and (when the door was closed) told her what had happened.

Crystal slumped against the counter and looked up at them pleadingly. “They didn’t…” she said. “They said they weren’t going to start this nonsense again. We were doing so well. Really good things! Helping! Legally!! Why?!” she shouted.

            “You weren’t in on it?”

            “No! They— It was _him!”_ she cried and her face flushed crimson. “That lousy bard. Things were fine once he was gone. He riled them up again. What the hell does he know? He doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to actually have to live here, to get by, to keep at it day after day! Just swoops in to play the hero!” She put her face in her hands and Molly kneeled down and pulled her into a hug. “What am I gonna do? They’ll come for me, too. I started LeZCA. My name is all over it.”

            “We’re leaving. You’re coming with us.”

            “But my shop…”

            Gustav winced and looked away from her as tears came to his eyes, but everywhere he looked his heart stung to see the bespoke garments hanging on the walls, waiting for their customers to come. “The work will come back. If you stay, it will not.”

            She looked up with her large, black eyes. “I’m scared.”

            “Me too,” Molly admitted and released her. “I have to go warn E'leth. You two start packing.”

            Gustav put a hand on his chest as he made to leave. “Be careful, my pest.”

            Molly paused, grasped him by the lapels and pulled him into a kiss. “I will.”

.x.

            “Fuck,” E'leth repeated. “I am so sorry.”

            “No time for that,” Molly said quickly. “Pack your things. We’re going.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Funny thing is, yes you can.”

            “Not without Leo.”

            “Fuck Leo.”

            “Molly.”

            “Did he put you up to this? Whatever bullshit got Maddie?” he snarled.

            “Molly…”

            Before he could open his mouth there was a loud, jarring knock on the door. E'leth stood where she was. “Coming!” she shouted. “Go.”

            “Please!”

_“Go,”_ she hissed, pulled something up from behind the counter and shoved it into his hands. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

            He took it without looking. _‘I wouldn’t leave without Gustav...’_ he thought, turned and fled through the back door. In moments he returned to Bulan Outfitters where Gustav and Crystal were waiting by the door, ready to run. He explained quickly that E'leth wouldn’t come and they hurried off into the morning for the city gates.

            They had plenty of coin for horses and decided to ride south. “Better to be homeless in a warm climate,” Gustav suggested. “Trust me.”

 

.x.

            When they camped for the night they unpacked and evaluated their assets. There was coin enough, but they had no water, and no proper food to speak of. Gustav knew where the waystations were and thought they might be able to buy some from other travelers as they were still close to Zadash. Molly examined the items E'leth had hastily shoved into his hands and pursed his lips. There was a coin purse with sixty-three gold pieces in it and a large bar of chocolate. “If we’re not starving to death, I think I’d like to save this for now,” he said. They agreed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

            For the first few days the little group proceeded quietly south on horseback through the late-winter gloom. There was some talk about where they would go and what they would do when they got there, but with none of the excitement that such a dramatic change might bring under better circumstances. On the first day, Gustav heard the little gnome woman softly sobbing as they rode and for days afterward the two men silently took turns letting her ride seated in front of them, leading her horse along behind.

            Camping on the ground was as miserable as Molly remembered from their journey down the Glory Run, but he comforted himself knowing that at least this time he could wrap his own arms around Gustav and Crystal and offer them protection.

            The weather began to warm as they approached the border of the Empire and one night Molly rolled away from his friends and the embers of their campfire and watched the moonrises for a while. The desire to just get where they were going and start living again ached inside him. He wanted to hear Gustav laugh again more than anything. He closed his eyes.

            Perhaps only minutes later Molly was awakened by someone roughly grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up off the ground. The glint of a long knife ready to slash his throat reflected in the moonlight. Without hesitation, his reflexes responded and Molly reached around, grasping the arms of his attacker and flipping him head over heels.

In a flash he was on him, the blade still in his attacker’s hand as he wrenched his wrist around and slashed the man’s throat with his own weapon. Molly spun around and caught the outlines of two more bandits closing in on him in the dark. He glanced back to see that Gustav and Crystal were only just roused by the commotion, and knowing they weren’t in immediate danger, he slashed the blade across the front of his chest and growled “you will not touch them!” in Infernal. The metal glowed sickening red and made one of the attackers hesitate for a moment—enough for the tiefling to sprint the short distance and plunge the weapon into his chest. Using the man’s body as a shield, Molly pivoted, pushing him off the blade and into the remaining attacker who fell prone. As he dropped, Molly threw the knife and it planted itself into the last man’s right eye. He cried out briefly then slumped as the life left him.

_He hears the clang of metal on metal and smells the wet iron scent of blood as he combats humanoid foes in a cold, raw landscape of grey on grey..._

 

            Molly’s chest heaved with the exertion and his blood sang with rage and adrenaline and the flash of memory disoriented him. It took a moment before he heard Gustav’s terrified voice calling his name. For a second the adrenaline rushed again, but his partner was safe. “Are you ok!?” he cried.

            Molly opened his mouth to respond, but saying yes seemed too great a lie to tell. He jogged back to the campfire and let Gustav fuss over the wound on his chest.

            “You killed them…” Crystal whispered.

            “So I did,” he replied and winced. “Gustav, is this something you’ve seen me do before?”

            “Yes.”

            “With the glowing, and all that?”

            “Yes. I think you called it ‘blood maledict.’”

            “Great.”

            “You saved us, Molly.”

            Crystal stared at the fallen shapes in the darkness. “You _slaughtered_ them.”

“To be fair, the first one _was_ trying to cut my head off. I suppose I didn’t want to find out if his friends were any kinder.”

            Gustav pulled one of his shirts from his pack and began tearing it into bandages and Crystal let out a small involuntary gasp as he did so.

            Molly hung his head. “I’m sorry I scared you, Crystal. If it helps, you’re not alone,” he said, trembling. He looked away from the kind, concerned face of his partner and whispered “Gustav? Am I a monster?”

            Gustav wiped the blood that had oozed from the ‘eye’ on his neck, tied the bandage around his chest, and took his face in his hands. “Molly, look at me. You are a _hero_. Your instincts protected us from people who would do us harm. Just as you’ve had to do in the past.” Molly nodded slightly and Gustav kissed his forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry you had to remember this the hard way, my dearest.”

            Crystal hugged herself and shivered, then set about stoking the fire while Gustav finished patching Molly up. When he was done, Molly got up and went to investigate the bodies. Three human men, perhaps not yet out of their early twenties had lost their lives when they picked the wrong camp to plunder. Each was well armed with deadly, albeit poor-quality blades. None of them had any coin or anything of value on their person. Molly and Gustav took some of their knives then dragged them away from the camp just behind some shrubs and paused for a moment in the moonlight. “I’m sorry,” Molly breathed. “But you arseholes would have hurt the people I care about. You had it coming. Be glad it was quick.”

.x.

            Crystal prodded the embers and coaxed the campfire back to life. “Ya know, by the sound of it,” she said with an exasperated laugh, “you got some _serious_ skeletons! And I thought I was the one with the shady past!”

            Molly chuckled in a similar fashion, less amused than in agreement. “You know what? Since we’re clearly not sleeping the rest of tonight and it would appear that my past is really rather fascinating, why don’t you regale us, Gustav?” He pulled his saz into his lap and quietly tuned it. “I’ll provide the accompaniment.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Can there be anything more horrifying than this?” he asked, waving a hand over his chest.

            “Aside from the already known, _obvious_ horror? Not that I know of.”

            “You mean the horror of climbing out of my own grave at least twice?” he asked, watching Crystal’s eyes dart from one man to the other in disbelief. He grinned wide, finished tuning and strummed the instrument emphatically four times. “Hearken unto the Sordid Tale of Mollymauk Tealeaf! The bastard that would not die!”

            Gustav told the story of how he first met Molly, how he and the carnival had nursed him back to health, and how when he was alert enough, he had told them he remembered crawling from his grave. Gustav hadn’t really believed him until later when he spoke to the people who buried him again. He recounted a tale of bravery of a night when the carnival had been attacked while on the road and how Mollymauk, Bo the Breaker, and others had defended them. He told them about the Mighty Nein and about the horrible night everything fell apart. How they had returned, freed Gustav from his hard labor sentence and informed him of Molly’s passing, and how he’d found Molly again.

“The Platinum Dragon adherents were a little nutty,” Gustav said. “But I rather do believe that it was fate or destiny or something of the sort that allowed us to find each other again,” he concluded. “I would have… I don’t think I’d be… I’m so glad I found you,” he added, getting a little teary.

            Molly had long put his instrument away and Crystal yawned and looked blearily off at the eastern horizon. “That was incredible,” she said sleepily. “I’m gonna take a nap, now, that ok?” She stuck a hand out and opened and closed it a few times, saying ‘gimme’ in Molly’s direction. “Let’s?”

            Molly hummed in agreement, smiling in relief. “Right behind you,” he said and lay down. “Gustav!” he called, snapped his fingers and pointed behind him. “Spoon, please.”

            Gustav let a slow soft sigh escape and snuggled in under one of the most beautiful sunrises he could ever remember seeing.

 

.x.

            Even on horseback, almost two weeks of travel on the Amber Road was a difficult journey for the three refugees. There had been a tense day of worry before they crossed through the Wuyun gates at the border of the Empire, but with the two experienced showmen at the lead, they passed themselves off as a carnival promoter and his gnomish grandmother traveling with a tiefling performer on their way to entertain in the Menagerie Coast. When she pointed out that she was probably one hundred years Gustav’s senior, Molly teased Crystal, calling her ‘Yiayia’.

            On the eighth day, Gustav was the first to spy the ocean glittering just over the horizon. They urged the horses into a run toward it for a while until they crested a hill and a splendid, sunset-drenched view of the city of Nicodranas spread out before them. The scent of the ocean was faint, but the air was humid and warm. They danced and cheered before collapsing in a tired heap in the grass to watch the sun sink beneath the waves. Everything felt different and refreshing. The long grass was a little coarse to the touch, growing in a tan, sandy soil. A warm breeze blew up the hillside from the ocean and whipped their hair and clothes. Gustav lay splayed out on the ground and watched small, thin wisps of orange and pink cloud move quickly across the darkening sky above.

            “We’re finally here,” he mumbled. “I’m both glad we got horses, and hope to never see a horse again. No offence,” he said waving to his mount, apologetically.

            Crystal’s stomach growled. “I want hot food. And a beer!”

            “Here, here!” Molly chimed, pumping his fist in the air. He lurched to his feet and rummaged in the pack strapped to his horse and pulled something out. “I suppose it’s as good a time as any for this,” he said and unwrapped the fine chocolate that E’leth had given him the day they fled. “A bit bittersweet...pun not intended, but worthy of a celebration as anything.” He broke the bar in pieces, handed them to his friends, and they shared it in meditative silence.

            Crystal was the first to break it. “I’m worried about them,” she said quietly.

            “As am I,” Gustav agreed and looked off at the ocean, the blue growing deeper by the moment. “But I am very glad we could spare you from being sucked into the consequences of their indiscretion.”

            Molly wadded up the paper wrapper and threw it toward the road. “Fuck Leo.”

            “I was mad at him,” Crystal said. “But the more I thought about it, I’m sure he didn’t have to push hard. Maddie saw such suffering come through that bar every day—people in need, people drinking their sorrows away. It affected her more than it did us. It makes sense that she’d want to go to extremes to try to make a difference.”

            They nodded.

            “I hate it, but it makes sense. I just wish they had talked to me.”

            “They were trying to protect you,” Gustav muttered. “Maddie told me.”

            “Shit,” she hissed and wiped tears from her eyes. Suddenly she shoved her remaining share of the chocolate into her mouth and bolted up off the ground. “Alright! I don’t know about you gentlemen, but I am _done_ feeling shitty about this! We gotta make the best of a bad situation!”

            “Here, here!” Molly piped again and sauntered over to his partner. He quickly straddled Gustav’s chest, dropped to one knee and planted a quick chocolatey kiss on his lips, whispering so only he could hear “I need to get naked with you soon, or I think I may actually die,” before standing up and clapping his hands. “Onward! To food and beer!”

            “And bed!” Crystal cheered.

            Molly laughed a bit too hard. _“So_ much bed!!”

.x.

            Later that night Gutsav, Molly, and Crystal entered through the darkened streets and found a tavern called the Mother of Pearl in the area of the city locals referred to as ‘The Skew’. They secured two rooms, three bowls of the house stew, and three pints of their best ale and sat down to eat surrounded by their packs. There was enough energy from the sheer exhilaration of finally reaching their destination to keep them up an hour or so longer, but they wore exhaustion like heavy cloaks. The brew was palatable and the stew passable, made more so by the addition of a potent red pepper sauce. Gustav asked for it specifically from the tavern keeper who didn’t need to warn him how dangerous it was in large quantities. He held the jar out for Molly’s inspection. “Try it,” he said with a sly grin.

            Molly raised a brow. “Hot?”

_“Quite.”_

            He spooned a good dollop onto the stew and mixed it in, accepting his challenge. Crystal stopped chewing and watched carefully as he took a bite.

            “Oh…” Molly purred. “Oh, that’s good. That’s—”

 

_The flavor explodes on his tongue, dancing and tingling down his throat and up his nose and he cries out “where has this been my whole life!” Laughter from faceless friends gathered around the table._

 

 _“—familiar…_!”

            “It should be. You consumed more of this stuff than a person should be able to and live whenever we came through Nicodranas.”

            “Gustav, I believe I will like this town, very much!” He beamed and let out a long, tired, contented sigh as he swallowed another huge spoon of the now firy stew. A softer, not as enthusiastic sigh sounded from across the table and Molly looked to Crystal who was playing with her food. “Oh, Yiayia, I’m sorry,” Molly said softly.

            She looked up with a start and her brows came together. “No, no! You should be happy. We should. We have to. It’s just, also, kind of scary.”

            Before Gustav could attempt to console her he watched her eyes widen with terror as three Crownsguard wandered into the tavern, removed their helmets and leaned against the bar. Gustav reached across and took Crystal’s hand in his and mouthed _‘it’s ok, watch,’_ and they did as the three men were poured drinks and toasted each other. “They’re off duty,” he said quietly.

            “But they’re _here_ ,” she insisted.

            Gustav shook his head and squeezed her hand. “The Clovis Concord controls most of Nicodranas. They have a trade deal with the Empire and while they could technically enforce their laws here, it’s not common. They are mostly here to see that their trade goes smoothly, not to put people in prison for worshipping the wrong god or being a friend of someone arrested for sedition. They are not here looking for us, I assure you.”

            “Ok, but I don’t think I want to set up shop and wave my name around where these guys can see it.”

            Molly pointed his spoon at Gustav. “Have him give you a new name,” he suggested between bites. “Gave me one a couple times. ‘S good at it.”

            “I admit I have given it some thought but haven’t found a good combination yet. It has to roll off the tongue _just so._ ”

            She tilted her head to the side. “What was the name of your carnival, again?”

            With only a little visible discomfort, Gustav shifted his weight, leaning a bit closer to Molly. “The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities.”

            “How about Crystal Moondrop?” she asked, eyes wide. “Bulan had something to do with the moon, my mam used to say.”

            “I… Uh… It sounds lovely, but I would ask, please, _anything_ but that. It didn’t end well and I feel like that would be incredibly bad luck.”

            “Oh!” she said and folded her arms. She stared at him for a beat in the way Gustav recognized as her processing some new piece of information she’d received. “Well, since I’m yer grandma, now, why not Fletching?”

            Gustav went pink all the way to the tips of his pointed ears and his lips curled into a bashful smile. “Are you sure?”

            “I’d be proud to take it,” she said and reached out and pinched his cheek. “My cute, talented grandson!” His pink went fuchsia. “But I like my first name...”

            “Upgrade it,” Molly said leaning back, meal completed. “What’s your favorite color?”

            “Green.”

            “Emerald,” Gustav said, knowing where Molly was going with this.

            “Emerald Fletching,” she said.

            “Ema for short?” Molly asked.

            “For sure!”

            Molly lifted his mug, sloshing the last sip or two of ale. “To new beginnings! May they treat us all well, once again!”

            Gustav and Ema raised theirs and they cheered in agreement.

            After what turned out to be a decent and fulfilling dinner and much deserved drinks they parted for the night, Ema to one room, Gustav and Molly to another, comfortable and hopeful for the future the little family would carve out together in the vibrant coastal city.

.x.

            The door had only just shut behind Gustav before Molly pushed his hands against his chest, peeling his jacket off and devouring him with kisses. “I know you’re about to drop,” he said between breaths. “But right now, I need your touch as badly as I need air.”

            “Quite right,” Gustav managed to reply as his blood flushed hot. “I will do my very best to help.” They undressed each other clumsily, punch drunk on only a little drink but a lot of exhaustion and fell into bed. In a few minutes, true to his word, Gustav’s kisses trailed off and he snored lightly against his partner’s chest, careful to avoid the still healing wound there, his lanky limbs intertwined with Molly’s arms, legs, and tail.

            “That’ll do,” Molly whispered as he nuzzled his chin against the top of Gustav’s head and happily drifted off soon after.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Poppy Hervy sings and Lily Odevally performs to is “The Dancer” by PJ Harvey

 

            All three refugees found that they liked Nicodranas with its warm weather, bright sunshine, and diverse and colorful culture very much, indeed. In the first few days, Gustav and Ema wandered around during the day looking for a tailor or outfitter who might be looking to hire some help, and Molly wandered the waterfront played his saz, and started working on burnishing his pale lavender skin on the beach.

            In the areas near the water there were what could be called tailoring facilities in the form of two massive shops that catered to mariners situated in huge structures, tall enough to create and repair sails. The workers were burly and the tools of their trade took a strong hand to operate. Gustav and Ema decided that this was not the avenue for them and moved further up into the city proper. Ema was hesitant to consider the high-end Opal Archways district, but Gustav insisted they at least look. After peering at the wares of one fancy clothes shop through its windows and observing the stuffy, frilly, ostentatious designs and snooty clientele that patronized it, they laughed to themselves and agreed this was above and beyond their ability or desire. On the third day, they trekked through the streets of the Skew and then the Open Quay and it was there, at last, that they discovered a large shop bearing a sign with a needle and thread design below letters that spelled out ‘Evergreen’.

            “It’s a good color,” Ema said, optimistically.

            The shopfront facing the street was mostly comprised of dozens of panes of glass but from the outside one could see only some stacked boxes in the dimly lit interior.

“Seems a waste.” Gustav pointed to the empty display space.

Ema nodded and opened the door.

            Inside they found a large room with a counter in the center toward the back. Behind it was a closed door to a back room and an elderly human man with a ring of white hair on his head sat on a stool pushing a needle through a cuff with shaking hands. To the left of him a human woman with greying red hair shifted paper-board boxes in one of many huge, perilous stacks that surrounded the room. “Ah cain’t find it. You sure you checked it in?” They bore labels that appeared to have people’s names and addresses on them in a squiggly scrawling handwriting. Some spouted fabric of various colors—a sleeve here, a bit of lace there.

            “I reckon,” he said absently.

            She sighed and turned to chastise him and as she did the pile of boxes she had been rifling through began to slide toward her.

            Before she could turn to block them, Gustav and Ema were on the case and stopped them from landing on her. Everyone but the old tailor paused and let out a sigh of relief, but rather than thank her saviors, the woman took a lungful of air and shouted “Dang it, Daddy, Ah near ‘bout got clobbered by this mess!”

            “Wha’s that?”

            She threw her hands in the air and shook her head then turned her attention at last to the two strangers. “Ah’m sorry. Thank ya for catchin’ them boxes for me. What can we do ya fer?” she asked nervously.

            “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna put any more work on your pile,” Ema said, kindly. “We’re just a couple a tailors new to town lookin’ for work! I’m Emerald Fletching and this’s my grandson, Gustav.”

            The woman looked down at the gnome with the huge poofy hair and up at the tall, slick half-elf and gave a little shrug. “Well, takes all kinds,” she said and clapped her hands together. “Let’s talk, shall we? Daddy, I’ll be just outside for a bit. You don’t go nowhere!”

            “Wha?”

She rolled her eyes and walked with them back into the sunshine. “You serious? You got experience?”

            Gustav tipped his hat. “Indeed. We’ve just relocated from Zadash where my grandmother was in business for...how many years, Yiayia?”

            “Fifty-two.”

            Gustav’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips.

            “Dang!”

            “Dang, indeed!” Gustav agreed. “I have assisted her only four months or so, but I have over a decade of experience, myself.”

            “That’s almost as much as my Daddy, and gnomes live a long time, right?” she said rubbing her hands together. “I been tryin’ ta get ‘im to retire nigh on six years or more. Don’t suppose I could talk ya into buyin’ a shop?”

            Ema and Gustav looked at each other and had a very hard time trying to suppress their delight.

 

.x.

            A month later, the mess cleaned up, the backlog being chinked away at, Gustav and Ema were busy at work pleasing Evergreen’s customers with the change in ownership. The payments to the old man were reasonable, helped a bit by a down payment made with most of the funds they’d taken with them when they fled Zadash. A new sign was commissioned which had the same design of the needle and thread, but in a newer style and with a huge ampersand behind it. Above and below it the names ‘Fletching’ and ‘Fletching’ ringed the illustration. It was raised into place one fine spring morning to great fanfare from the little family.

 

.x.

            A month earlier, on the morning of that first full day after they’d arrived and Ema and Gustav went off to find work, Molly kissed Gustav for luck and said he’d meet them back at the tavern after sunset at the latest, grabbed his instrument and tarot cards, and headed for the shore.

            A distance from the wharf in the area where denizens disembarked from their passenger sailing vessels, Molly found a small park-like area with a few ancient gnarled, dusty green-leafed trees for shade and some large blocks of stone placed here and there for people to sit on or against. A handful of people occupied some of these spots, but he found a free stone, leapt up onto it and seated himself cross-legged. His attire was a bit too heavy for the weather, so he removed his tall boots, rolled up the legs of his trousers, and rolled the cuffs of his shirt to his elbows. The wound he’d given himself a few days before had healed sufficiently but was still angry and red, so he decided to keep his shirt closed. He let the sea breeze play with his hair and sighed. He hoped that his friends’ business would be up and running soon and churning out light-weight clothes that he could wear.

Molly fantasized about modeling garments made of linen, crepe, and chiffon for Gustav. This was the first time they’d been apart for well over a week and if they didn’t see each other until nightfall, it would be the longest time they’d been apart in months. He opened the instrument case and lovingly removed the baglama saz, laid back on the stone, and tucked the deeply curved bowl against his ribs just below the wound. He ran his hand along the neck and hummed a tune, finding a nice melody and noodled away for an hour or more before he came to a natural stopping point and realized he’d attracted a small audience. At the base of the stone, a large piece of paper folded into the shape of a hat had filled a little with coppers and silvers. Molly sprang to his feet and took a little bow. “Thank you, kindly!” he chimed as the crowd dispersed, leaving only a tallish, tanned-skinned dwarf who stood just to the left of the paper hat.

            “You’re welcome. You needed a hat,” they said and touched it gently with their boot. They were dressed in a light green sarong over loose-fitting pale-yellow pants and had a pair of green leather sandals on feet with red painted toenails. Their fingernails were also red, their arms were covered in gold bangles, ears and nose with gold rings, and both the hair on their face and head were bright copper colored.

            Molly put his instrument away in its case, sat on the lip of the huge stone and looked down at his patron. “Can’t wear one!” he chimed, pointing to his horns. “Also didn’t think anyone would want to hear me. Usually I’m more of a nuisance than entertainment.”

            “That’s a hell of a thing to say—you’re good. You ever perform in the clubs?”

            Intrigued, Molly leaped down and squatted a bit, leaning his back against the rock so that he could look the dwarf in the eye. “You’ll forgive me, I’m fresh in town. _‘Clubs’?”_

            “That explains it,” the dwarf said with a smile. “Name’s Lily,” they said and stuck out their hand. “And since you’re new, I’m genderless.”

            “Kind of you to alert me!” Molly said with a grin. “Moliggan Brightside,” he said and shook their hand. “Molly to my friends. I don’t mind ‘he’.”

            “I perform next week at the Wandering Eye. Come check it out.”

            “You do! What do you play?”  
            Lily grinned and hesitated for a moment. “Hard to explain.”

            “Intriguing. I’ll see if my partner isn’t too tired—he’s out trying to find work at the moment.”

            “Lucky you!” Lily chimed and grinned wider. “Well, hopefully I’ll see you both.” They waved as they walked away. “Keep the ‘hat’!”

 

.x.

            After a full day of lying about and playing his saz, Molly made a substantial amount of small coins and had a light dinner of a spiced grilled meat tucked into in a flatbread with vegetables and a delicious sauce. “Oh, I do so like it here,” he said, enraptured by the flavor and tipped the street vendor heavily. He had just finished the meal when he arrived at the front of the tavern, but the sun was still fairly high in the sky. A pass of the interior and depositing his instrument in their room revealed he was the first to arrive and there was another hour or more to sundown. Molly huffed, folded his arms and leaned against the wall to keep watch for his friends. He tapped a clawed, ringed finger against his bicep impatiently. A distant bell tower chimed seven bells. Had he become so thoroughly wrapped up in Gustav that such a short separation felt so enormous? He imagined his face. The way his lip curled when Molly amused him revealing misaligned teeth. The faint laugh lines around his eyes. Those deep, soft, brown eyes.

            “Molly!” Gustav called as he and Ema approached unnoticed by the tiefling who was staring somewhere in the middle distance in the other direction.

            Molly’s heart did a somersault and he pushed off the wall and tried to look nonchalant as he strode to meet them and pulled Gustav into an embrace and kissed him as if he’d just arrived from a year’s voyage.

            “M-Molly!” Gustav protested a little, slightly embarrassed to be so doted on in public and in front of Ema.

            Molly acquiesced and released him, stroking his face with the tips of his fingers as he did. “Missed you,” he said softly.

            Ema barked a laugh. “I’d say get a room, but, ya know,” she said and pointed to the tavern with her thumb.

            “Have you eaten yet?” Molly asked, hopeful.

            “No, not yet. You?”

            He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Yes, but I’ll sit with you. I will be patient”

            Gustav cocked a brow at his agitation. “Alright.”

            Ema laughed again and said she’d meet them inside.

            Gustav gave his partner a sultry look before turning to follow his grandmother. “Well, that’s good that you’ll wait for me to eat, Molly. If that kiss was any indication, it seems like I might need my stamina?”

            Molly shook his head and made an excited, frustrated growl of a laugh. As he watched him pass through the doorway he could see the scales tip the balance of power in Gustav’s favor, and it both thrilled and terrified him.

 

.x.

            Ema and Gustav finalized a deal with the Evergreen Tailor that allowed for them to take ownership in a month’s time. This gave the old man’s daughter time to get him out of the shop and ease the two new tailors in. Molly pitched in his savings to the down payment as well, so their available cash was very short. They would have to stay at the inn for a while longer, but there was a space behind the shop for Ema to call home. Before they took over, their hours were short, trying not to upset the current ‘owner’ as his daughter had to keep breaking the news to him that he was retiring. It gave Gustav time to spend with Molly during the day and they explored the city together.

            One night, Molly took him out to a little bar in the Skew called the Wandering Eye. He admitted that all he knew about the entertainment they were in store for was ‘hard to explain’ when Gustav blanched a little at the condition of the building and its environs. The windows were blackened with paint except for dozens of small eye-shaped voids through which passersby could peer. No sign hung in advertisement, only a leering, half-lidded purple-irised eye painted on the door. The sounds of people talking loudly from within seemed to indicate it was doing a good business. Molly tried the handle, found it to be locked, shrugged, and knocked.

            He had decided to dress up for a night on the town and wore a billowing, teal, linen shirt decorated with swirling embroidery tucked into tight, plum colored pants, and as much of his jewelry as was just above necessary. He made sure his face was turned a bit to show off his tattoos and flashed a toothy grin as the door opened. A very tall, broad-shouldered woman with bright orange lips and voluminous curly hair to match stood in the way. “Two gold,” she said automatically in a deep voice.

            “Oh gladly,” Molly answered, delighted, and pulled four pieces out for the both of them.

            “Molly, that’s a lot of—”

            “Humor me, darling? Besides, this is my treat.”

            “Alright.” Gustav stepped closer to his partner and tipped his hat to the bouncer.

            “Have a nice time, darling,” she teased as they passed by her and into the club.

 

            The room was larger than they expected, dimly lit, and smoky. Some of the scents were identifiable, others smelled pleasantly exotic, acrid, and dangerous. Gustav reached for Molly’s hand and Molly giggled with excitement. “Isn’t this place great!” he chimed.

            Gustav gave his best false smile. “That’s a word.”

            They found a little table toward the back, just left of the lip of a long, two-foot riser that served as a stage. Almost all the tables were full and as Gustav examined his surroundings and the other patrons he started to relax. He removed his top hat and leaned in toward Molly as a barmaid arrived and whispered, “reminds me of carnival folk!”

            Molly squeezed his leg with his tail under the table and grinned to split his face. They ordered a bottle of wine and just as it arrived a slender blond woman in a black sequined outfit took center stage. Magically orchestrated lights illuminated her, and her clothing sparkled brightly. “Mesdames et Messieurs! Your attention if you please! For your delight this evening The Wandering Eye will present to you three fabulous entertainments! Drink up, toke up, relax, and enjoy the mesmerizing talents of Enigma Marie!” A smattering of applause and a few wolf-whistles sounded as the phantom lights dimmed, the MC skipped off stage left and a figure cartwheeled to center stage. A little halfling woman dressed in silks of blue and violet accented with shining mirrors plucked a pair of rings from the stage and proceeded to perform a contortionist dance routine set to music played by three people who stood stage right in the shadows playing a woodwind of some kind, a lute, and a little drum. The act was indeed mesmerizing, and the audience applauded when she had finished.

            “Sold?” Molly asked, holding up his glass of wine.

            Gustav clinked his against it. “I should never have doubted you. This is wonderful!”

            The second act was introduced as “Les Gens D’Argent”—a pair of men with silver painted faces in matching suits of grey and blue, but opposite in color placement. They linked arms and sang a harmonically complicated tune accompanied by only the drum. The effect was a little disconcerting, but so utterly different than anything they had seen that they were emotionally moved when it was over. “Wow,” Molly said, shaking his head. “Just wow.” Gustav made mental notes about the cut of their costumes and commented to Molly how inspiring they were.

            The MC took the stage once more. “I hope you are ready for our final performance on this evening’s special bill! Stick around afterwards as the music and good times will of course go on! Now, please welcome to the stage, our own Lily Odevalley!”

            “Wooo!” Molly cheered with the rest of the crowd as the dwarf he’d met on his first day in town sauntered to the lip of the stage. The lighting shifted and they looked up into the distance as the music began. A fourth figure had joined the band, but they couldn’t see an instrument from where they were seated. Lily was dressed in an evening gown of green satin, trimmed with soft black fur. They walked in shoes with the tallest heels Gustav had ever seen, putting their height at about five and a half feet tall. They had shaved their ginger beard, heavily makeuped their face with dark eyes and huge bright red lips, and a wavy black wig covered their hair. Certain undergarments pushed and pulled and padded their figure into that of a voluptuous woman which, clearly, Lily Odevalley was.

            She reached a gloved hand in the direction of her gaze and the music swelled. She opened her mouth and from stage right, someone with an incredible voice began to sing.

_“He came riding fast like a phoenix outta fire flames! He came dressed in black with a cross bearing my name!”_

            Lily mouthed the words and gestured and slinked across the stage acting the tune out and Gustav and Molly exchanged excited looks as if to say ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I love it!’

_“So long days, so long nights! Oh, Lord, be near me tonight. Is he near? Is he far? Bring peace to my black and empty heart…”_

            As she acted out the last aching, cracking, glorious note, Lily went down on one knee, then the other, then on her hands and knees, then slumped to the floor and the place went crazy. The lights on the stage went out for a moment as people cheered then back on to show Lily standing up again, grinning. She pulled her wig off and stuck their chin in the air and the crowd cheered louder. Molly was on his feet, whistling and shouting. Lily then gestured to stage right and the musicians came out. They introduced them each, and the loudest applause was for a small, skinny, grey-skinned tiefling woman with short, wavy, black hair and thick glasses. “The voice of Poppy Hervy, everyone!” Lily shouted in their own voice. Poppy bowed quickly with a nervous smile on her lips before she turned and hurried back into the shadows.

            Once the crowd had calmed down, the musicians brought out chairs and played tunes as promised and a loud din of happy drinkers filled the room. Gustav noted with a ringmaster’s eye how well the alcohol flowed. With the two-gold cover price and the cost of drinks he did some math and mentioned his perception to Molly. “Beats raising stakes and slogging around the continent!” he said.

            “Oh, but didn’t you like slogging?” Molly teased. “All the different places, a new crowd of rubes wherever we went? Sometimes having to run for our lives?”

            “I think _you_ liked that,” he corrected and poured more wine.

            “Huh,” Molly wondered, taking another sip and bracing himself for a flash of memory that frustratingly did not come. “Should I _now_?”

            “You should feel however you want to feel.”

            “No, but I mean, if I felt that way before, is it weird that I don’t, now? Memories are one thing, but did I become someone who doesn’t like travel when I came back?”

            Gustav pondered this for a moment. “There are some things about you that are very much Mollymauk, and others that are very much not him.”

            “Such as?”

            Gustav blushed a little. “Us, for example.”

            “Surely I cared for you then!”

            “Perhaps a bit, but not so much that you expressed it to me.”

            Molly frowned but before he could push the issue further they were hailed by a ginger dwarf.

            “Brightside!” they chimed. “Glad you could make it!” They had changed out of their costume and into a comfortable pair of billowing pants and a tight black shirt.

            Molly lit up and pivoted in his chair to greet them. “Lily. That. Was. _Fantastic!”_

            They laughed. “Glad you liked it. This must be the partner? I’m Lily,” they said and reached over for Gustav’s hand. He stood to shake it.

            “Gustav Fletching, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I second Molly’s emotion. We haven’t seen acts like this in a long time. Please, sit!”

            Lily joined them, turning a chair around and sitting in it backwards. “You’re both patrons of the arts?”

            Molly leaned on his palm. “Gustav is a former carnival owner, I was, a barker, I suppose?”

            “You barked, promoted, schmoozed, and did fortune telling.”

            “That.”

            Lily cocked a brow. “He didn’t play?”

            Gustav sipped his wine. “Not back then, no.”

            Molly shifted his weight, leaning back in his chair and observing the two of them. “That guy didn’t know how to play,” he muttered and took a long pull from his wine glass.

            Lily chuckled, not sure what the in-joke was (or indeed if it was funny) and smiled at Gustav. “Well, your partner is very talented. You should get him to join us!”

            Molly got some wine up his nose and sputtered. “Oh no. Nononono. Not in front of an audience.”

            “You got stage fright, Brightside? You did fine in the park!”

            “That was _the park!_ No, I really don’t think so.”

            Lily grinned devilishly. “What if you weren’t _you?”_

            Gustav’s eyes widened. “You mean…?”

            “You think little old Lily could get up there and do what Miss Odevalley did? Not hardly. But slap on a ton of makeup, cinch me up in the right places and—” They waggled their hands. “Boom. I own the room. Unless you got anxiety issues like my friend Poppy does, it works pretty well. We call it ‘drag’. Think about it,” they said with a wink. Someone on the other side of the room called their name and they motioned that they’d be right there. “Thanks again for coming to see me, Brightside. Gustav, good to meet you.”

            He nodded and watched Molly carefully as Lily strode away to meet their friends. “Very interesting.”

            Molly raised a thoughtful brow. “‘Drag’, huh?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Poppy Hervy sings and Princess Peacock performs is “Ojos Así” by Shakira. The song that The Ruby of the Sea sings is “La Vie en rose” by Édith Piaf. The song Moliggan Brightside sings is “The Wind That Shakes The Barley” by  Robert Dwyer Joyce.

 

            In a little under a month after Moliggan Brightside had witnessed his first drag performance, he was ready to make his own debut at the Wandering Eye. A special evening of performances was arranged featuring new and outside talent. Two other new-to-the-venue acts would surround Molly’s turn on stage: a friend of Lily’s would debut his latest impersonation first, and a performer known only as Sinamon would follow Molly. No one had yet seen Sinamon (a young human man who seemed to be perpetually in character) in the club, but a few had been out to see her in other places, and all said she was very good. She brought her own musicians and singer. Molly would use the house band and Miss Poppy Hervy, whom he called his ‘little sister from another mister.’ Molly’s act, however, had a different name.

            For a month, he had been incredibly secretive, doing all of his rehearsing away from the little two-room apartment he and Gustav had found in the Skew. Molly wanted to surprise Gustav, but also, he was a little afraid that he might not like it, ever how much Gustav protested.

 

.x.

            On the night of the performance, Gustav sat at a table close to the stage but not directly in front and calmed his nerves with a glass of brandy. Lily joined him at the table. “You are gonna get your socks knocked off,” they said as the show began.

            The first act, Maurice, Lily’s elven friend in drag, was the first to take the stage. His skin was painted red and he wore a false set of horns and a tail for an amazing impersonation of the Ruby of the Sea, singing one of her signature tunes. He was well received, but the audience knew what it had come to see.

            “Mesdames,” the MC said dramatically. “Messieurs. It is my delight to present to you, the debut of a sensational new performer. Please welcome Princess Peacock!”

            All the lights in the place went dark and the music began. A sitar and a low drum thrummed to life and a reedy woodwind whined an exotic melody. The magical lights shined down on a figure prone on the stage that slowly raised her arms, neck, and chest. The Princess swiveled and curled up from the floor in a smooth, languid motion to the rhythm of the music as the tempo increased. She wore long, crepe pants gathered at the ankles and slung low on her hips, a belt covered in coins tied just above the tail which also rattled with rings and small bangles as she cocked her hips to the beat. A small top (stuffed slightly to give the idea of breasts) and bracelets on her wrists and rings on her horns also jangled with little metal bells. Her peacock tattoo, which ran from cheek to abdomen, was on full display and she made snake-like motions with her right arm, accentuating the one tattooed there. Someone had woven rich, emerald green braids into her violet hair and they swung down to her lower back. Her face was heavily makeuped and from the moment Gustav saw her eyes, he knew he wasn’t looking at Molligan Brightside. This was Princess Peacock.

            From stage right Poppy sang in a language Gustav did not understand.

 _“Fui desde el Norte hasta el polo sur, Y no encontré ojos así, Como los que tienes tú!”_ The lights shifted colors as she danced and mouthed the words, enticing the audience. Her hips flipping the shining coins on her belt as she performed a choreographed routine, acting out the words in the song until its abrupt ending. The Princess pointed to Gustav as the last note faded and the lights went out again. When they came back up, she was gone and the crowd exploded.

Lily clapped Gustav on the back and hooted their approval, but Gustav sat in stunned silence, mouth agape for a while before applauding. His face was bright red and he downed the rest of his drink.   
            “You ok?” Lily asked.

            “I need a minute.”

            “You didn’t like it?”

            “N-no! I, I rather think I liked it too much!”

            Lily snorted and laughed at his awkwardness. They suggested when he was ready that they go back and congratulate the Princess.

            As the next act was introduced, Sinamon took the stage. She was a tall, male human in drag with black hair and a fair complexion. Her act was a bit edgier than the standard fair. Sinamon wore torn hose, tightly fitting clothes, and smeared makeup. As she took the stage, Gustav winced, a twinge of something akin to the start of a headache coming on flashed through his brain, but quickly passed as a singer with a rough voice began to sing about sex in an overt and visceral way. It turned a few patrons off, but those who had had a few drinks seemed to eat it up.

            “Yikes, I think I’m ready,” Gustav grimaced and said to Lily. They nodded in agreement and took him backstage.

.x.

            Molly was wiping the last of his makeup off when he saw Gustav enter the greenroom in the mirror’s reflection. He smiled wide and leapt up to embrace him. He’d already changed from his belly dancing costume to a cropped top and loose pants. “What did you think?!” he asked.

            “Incredible,” Gustav said quietly, staring intently at his partner.

            Molly was surprised to feel a blush rise to his cheeks and he practically giggled with delight. “Do me a favor, braid these things together?” He turned his back to him and handed him a ribbon. “I don’t want to take them out just yet, it’ll take too long, and I want to see the rest of the show.”

            Gustav took the thin green braids in his hands and carefully entwined them together for him, doubling it up so that he didn’t ruin them. When he was done, the whole thing looked almost sculptural in its construction nestled between his horns.

            “Ok, come on, I want to see this Sinamon!”

            “Must we?” Gustav asked, allowing himself to be tugged to the wings where Lily was already stationed watching the proceedings.

            Molly put his finger to his lips and they watched over the heads of the musicians as Sinamon finished her act. She grabbed her crotch and flipped the audience off as her song ended. Rather than exit the stage, she jumped down into the crowd and let them practically molest her.

            “Oddly, I’m not sure I’m on board with that,” Molly said, tilting his head to the side. “Does that also make me different than _him_?” he asked his partner, recalling a previous and ongoing conversation.

            “A little,” Gustav sighed with relief.

            Lily scoffed. “Brightside, that makes you _sane_.”

            “I really liked the first act. Who was he impersonating?”

            Lily folded their arms. “ _She_ ,” they gently corrected. “My pal Maurice. When in drag, use ‘she/her’. Unless it’s Sinamon. She never gets out of drag, apparently, and even if I don’t like her, I’ll still respect her choice.”

            “Thank you, Lily, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You know, I wondered about that. That’s not common I take it?”

 _“Sinamon’s_ not common.”  
            “Sorry, got off track, who was the first performer—she—impersonating?”

            “You don’t know the Ruby of the Sea?”

            “Should I?”

            Lily blinked for a second. “Oh, that’s right you’re new here. We gotta go check her out next time she plays. I’ll arrange it. You’ll _love_ her!”

 

.x.

            The very next time it was announced that the Ruby of the Sea would perform at the Lavish Chateau, a cadre of unusual people filled two tables well in advance of showtime. They were not the usual clientele and, if not for the copious amount of drinks and food ordered and large tips they gave, they might have been asked to leave. At one table, Gustav, Molly, Poppy, and Lily were seated together and Maurice and three other queens he knew, including the young queen called Sinamon at the one next to them. Sinamon lounged, leaning back in her chair with her hands behind her head, showing off long skinny arms covered in tattoos and ripped, gauzy fabric. Her hair was dyed bright red and shaved on one side and she wore her trademark black lipstick drawn larger than her actual lips. Her friends were a bit more subdued in appearance but stuck out more than the fancy folks at neighboring tables.

            “This is going to be so lame,” she moaned.

            “Lame?” barked Maurice. “How _dare_ you.”

            Molly laughed. “I thought you said this woman was the end-all-be-all of performers in town?”

            “Maybe if you’re _old,”_ Sinamon scoffed.

            Lily narrowed their eyes. “Then why are you even here?”

            Sinamon watched Molly carefully, but he didn’t seem to either notice or care about the insult, then stuck her tongue out at Lily and the house lights dimmed.

            Maurice sighed and put his chin in his hands as the curtains parted and the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen stepped down a small, winding staircase and took the stage to music played by a small orchestra behind her. “Oh, I love this song!” Maurice hissed excitedly to his friends.

            The Ruby of the Sea sang and the room seemed to go away. It was as if all anyone could see was the red-skinned tiefling woman whose every move commanded their attention; the way she turned her hand just so here, the tilt of her head there. As she crossed the stage, she barely moved at all, but everyone’s eyes were fixed, their ears could hear only her as if they were all madly in love with her. _“Des nuits d'amour à plus finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place. Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent. Heureux, heureux à en mourir! Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose~”_ When the song ended, she blew them a kiss and with a wistful smile she turned and retreated back up the stairs as the curtain fell.

            An annoying sound came from Sinamon. “Pshhhh. That’s bullshit,” she said and folded her arms.

            “Hey, fuck you, Sinamon,” Maurice hissed.

            “Whatever. She’s clearly using magic.”

            “Oh, like that’s ever stopped you!”

            Gustav noticed the staff starting to look over in their direction. “Might I suggest we use our inside voices?”

            “You’re not my dad,” Sinamon spat.

_“Thankfully.”_

            Poppy snorted and Sinamon pouted like the child she was.

            “Well, I have to meet her!” Molly announced and stood up.

            “Good luck,” Maurice said. “She only sees ‘clients’.”

            “Clients?”

            Sinamon smirked. “She’s a—”

            Maurice tapped the table with his closed fist so that the glasses jumped and clattered. “Sinamon. You say the word I think you’re going to say and I will happily get us both thrown out of here.”

            Lily leaned back, enjoying the show. “She sees clients _upstairs_ , if you know what I mean.”

            Molly glanced to Gustav who shrugged. “How will they know I’m not one?” he asked. “Be right back!”

            Mouth agape, Maurice looked as if Molly had just said the very word he had tried to keep Sinamon from using as he skipped off toward the stairs to the upper floors. Gustav raised his glass and shook his head, an amused smile on his lips.

.x.

            On the top floor, Molly found a long, exotically carpeted hallway. A half-dozen doors marked with numbers on them did not give any indication which one she was behind, but he noticed the carpet was threadbare leading up to the second one on the right and that it was constructed of a different kind of wood than the others.

            He rapped his knuckles on it quickly four times and a moment later a maidservant opened the door.

            “Hello! My name is Moliggan Brightside and I would like to learn the art of stage performance from the Ruby of the Sea!” he announced.

            The maid made a face and was beginning to close the door on him when a velvety voice from within called “Wait! Show him in.” The door swung open for him and he saw her seated at a dressing table in a long robe of black silk. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise to see the handsome lavender tiefling standing in the doorway. “Please, come in, come in. I have a few moments and you have piqued my curiosity.” She rose to greet him. Her long black hair spilled to her waist and it and her twisted horns framed her beautiful face. He guessed that she was a bit older than he, perhaps in her thirties. Molly bowed deeply, trying not to notice the way the silk gown fell on the perfect body beneath it.

            “Miss Ruby, I am but a humble musician and drag performer and now that I have seen you, I must know how you do it. How do you so bewitch an entire audience with your very presence? Please. Teach me.” He looked up and met her pale yellow eyes with his red.

            She grinned and as they shared the room with her handmaid, she switched to speaking in Infernal. “You are truly not just here for _me?”_

            Molly replied in kind. “My darling Gustav would be quite displeased with me if I were, but he trusts me. I know your time is valuable and I won’t waste it.”

            Her smile widened. “How refreshing. Very well. Come back tomorrow at two bells. I will be rehearsing downstairs while the club is closed. Tell them your name, Mr. Brightside, and they will let you in.”

            Molly beamed. “I’ll be there!” he answered. “Thank you, Miss Ruby!”

            “Please, my name is Marion.”

            “Marion,” he said, bowed his head, pivoted, and took his leave.

.x.

            Downstairs, his friends were milling around one of the two bars, getting ready to leave, and Molly bounded up to them. “Ok, let’s go.”

            “Well?” Gustav asked.

            “Hm?”

            Maurice made a face. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Brightside. Did you meet her?”

            “Uhuh.”

            Sinamon scoffed. “Bullshit,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance.

            Molly shrugged. “We can go now,” he said, lips curled into what Gustav recognized as a high-level shit-eating grin.

            He laughed at the annoyed look on Sinamon’s face and linked arms with his partner, leaning in to kiss his ear and whisper “You are _incredible_.”

 

.x.

            Just after two bells the following day, Molly strolled up to the Lavish Chateau and gained entry to the currently closed venue just as the Ruby of the Sea had told him he would. An enormous minotaur bouncer looked him up and down and only snorted in reply to Molly’s wide smile, but let him pass. Inside, chairs were turned upside down over tables and employees were busy cleaning the floors and mirrors. Marion Lavorre chatted on the stage with her band, a group of a half-dozen musicians of various races. She wore a long black skirt and a loose white linen shirt with long sleeves gathered at the wrist. Molly approached the lip of the stage and bowed

            “Ah, Mr. Brightside!” Marion chimed and clapped her hands together. “So you want to learn from the Ruby?” Her band giggled, aware of her appointment with this colorful and tattooed man.

            “I am but a lump of clay,” he said deferentially. “Mould me.”

            “Very well. Sit,” she said, pointing to the nearest chair. “First, I will rehearse, and you will observe.”

            He bowed again and did as she commanded. It was an altogether different experience to watch her without another soul in the audience. They ran through a song in a language Molly didn’t understand three times, and each time he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Though he didn’t comprehend the words, he knew inherently that the song was an uplifting one, more hopeful than wistful. Marion thanked her band and they left the two tieflings alone.

            “So,” she said. “What is it you wish to learn?”

            “I didn’t catch a word of that and I was still moved to tears. The way you move, the way you direct the audience. How do you do that? Is it magic?”

            She grinned and extended her hand, inviting him on stage. “Well,” she said, helping him up. “It’s not magic, per se. I do control certain things like the lights.” She waved her hand and the oil lamps lining the walls responded accordingly, dimming, flaring, and changing color. “But as for the audience? Not _usually._ I can suggest emotions to them, but I don’t need to. Look out there.” She indicated to the empty room. “When they are here, the audience is yours. Know that. Feel that. Bring them in.” Marion opened her arms as if greeting the invisible patrons. “It’s not about you. It’s about _them_.”

            After an hour of instruction on how to enter, how to greet, how to bring an audience in, how to lead them, and how to translate the emotion he felt as a performer into an energy his audience could feel, Marion asked him to sing for her.

            “Oh,” Molly blushed. “I don’t sing.”

            She gave him such a comical look that he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a drag performer. I mime the words, my dear friend Poppy Hervy sings for me.”

            “Ahhhhh” Marion scrutinized him. “Of course. You _do not_ sing, or you _cannot_ sing?”

            He averted his eyes from her penetrating gaze. “I choose not to.”

            “Then you _do.”_

            “I can...”

            “You _do!”_

            “I don’t think it sounds any good.”

            “Show me.”

            Molly swallowed hard. “Now? I don’t have my instrument, there’s no music, I can’t—”

            “I have given you a lesson. Give me this. Sing, Mr. Brightside. Sing for me.” She reached out and tapped her index finger against his chest. “Close your eyes if it helps, but be sure to sing _for_ your audience, not _to_ it. _”_

            He racked his brain trying to think of something appropriate, something easy, something he knew all the damned words to. Suddenly, he remembered Leo’renard teaching him a sad, beautiful song many months ago and he closed his eyes. _“I sat within the valley green, I sat me with my true love. My sad heart strove the two between—the old love and the new love. The old for her the new that made me think on Empire dearly, while soft the wind blew down the glade and shook the golden barley…”_ Molly opened an eye and saw the Ruby of the Sea staring at him intently, a soft, knowing smile on her lips, and he faltered.

            “Good, good,” she said. “You can sing. We can work with this.”

            “But, I don’t want to, I just want to—”

            She snapped her fingers and clicked her tongue at him. “This is something holding back your confidence, which, otherwise you have in spades. _We will work on this.”_

            “But…”

            “Why do you hesitate?” she asked, switching to infernal as the tone of the conversation shifted to the personal.

            “I’m afraid I might be in over my head. You can’t offer such a wonderful gift for nothing! Whatever it is you want from me in exchange, Marion, I might not be able to give to you.”

            She folded her arms around herself and nodded. “You may rest assured, I want nothing...untoward. I want something much less complicated, but so much more important.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “Please don’t laugh.”

            Molly blinked. “W-what is it?”

            “A friend.” The Ruby of the Sea blushed. “The only people I can talk to are either employed here or my customers. I used to have...a friend. But she had to go away. I don’t get to see her, much less speak to her, but once in a while. It would be nice, Mr. Brightside, if you could come see me, just to talk? If not, I’ll understand.” She looked up at him, brows arched over full-on puppy-dog eyes.

            “Marion,” he said, smiling broadly. “My friends call me Molly.”

 

.x.

            Fletching & Fletching Tailors started to make a name for themselves in short order, not just for being reliable and friendly (a vast improvement over the previous owner), but for the economical and stately designs that Ema Fletching brought with her from Zadash and the new, bold styles being created by her grandson. Inspired heavily by the exotic and flamboyant performers that graced the stage at the Wandering Eye, Gustav made jackets with asymmetrical closures and hems, skirts with panels in bold fabric choices running on the bias, shrugs, capelets, vests and such in colors and patterns not seen on the streets of Nicodranas or elsewhere. He patterned for the queens of the Wandering Eye where they could afford him and he was contentedly busy, often bringing a little work home and sewing or sketching while Molly lounged beside him and played his saz. Most days, Molly went to busk or off to chat, have lunch, and play cards with Marion Lavorre and Gustav went to work.

            One late morning before Molly’s lunch date with Marion he wandered up to see Gustav and Ema. He hadn’t been inside the shop in some time and was a little taken aback by the scene before him. The place had been transformed from the mess the two had found it in a few months before. Sample garments hung on display from the walls as they had in Zadash and a few prêt-à-porter items hung on a rack to the left. Three stands padded to resemble people that showed off their work stood in the windows: a fancy suit of a long dress, vest, sash, and overcoat in bright cerulean and cream tones, a tall-collared, long-sleeved coat and pants, both white with gold embroidery, and a short black dress trimmed in shimmering glass beads the color of the rainbow. Ema was adjusting a tight-fitting jacket for a pale-skinned dwarf woman with blond hair and beard and Gustav took information from a tall human man wearing ornately trimmed light grey silk robes. His eyes were wide as he took notes, nodding and agreeing with him. “Certainly. I hope so! Thank you, very much, Sir Epwint.”

            Molly hung back and waited for this man to leave before moseying up to the counter. “Who. Was. That?” he asked.

            Gustav leaned toward him and whispered “Tell you in a second.” He nodded toward the other customer as if to say ‘after they leave.’

            Molly leaned on the counter, rolled his eyes and turned the conversation instead to entertainment. “There’s a bard playing tonight at the pub down the street—” he started to say.

            “Oh, I can’t tonight, Molly. There’s so much to do!” Gustav said, beaming an excited smile at him. “Maybe you can lunch with us?”

            Molly frowned and shook his head. “Going to Marion’s again, today.”

            “Ah.” Gustav’s smile faded. “That’s nice. You’re becoming rather close, aren’t you?”

            Molly raised a brow. “Are you jealous?”

            “Perhaps a little.” He blushed and gently touched Molly’s left hand. “It might make me feel better if I felt like we had a certain level of commitment…”

            Molly pushed off from the counter and laughed nervously. “ _Commitment!”_ he crowed then gave him a most sultry look. “We don’t have to use such horrid words, do we, darling?”

            “I suppose there are better ones…” Gustav muttered.

            The customer finished with Ema and left the shop and Molly jumped on the opportunity to change the subject. “Ok, who’s Lord Fancypants?!”

            Ema laughed. “Sir Epwint,” she corrected. “He’s some sort of high-someoneimportant in the Opal Archways.”

            Gustav blinked at Molly’s dismissal, but the excitement of this news distracted him. “A ‘friend of his’,” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers “saw a performer wearing my designs and he wants to commission me to design for him!”

            Molly beamed with pride. “That’s wonderful!”

            Ema folded her arms. “We have a lot to talk about. This might mean a huge shift in how we do business.”

            “I won’t let it change who we are, Ema. We provide clothes for everyone and we always will. We will just have to expand a little, maybe.” Gustav grinned wide like an excited child. “He wants to put on a show of my designs for his wealthy friends—a fashion show, Molly!”

            “Fashion show…” he repeated. “Would you happen to need a model?”  
            Gustav took his hands in his. “Models! Yes!”

            Molly squealed with delight. “I’m in!”

            They laughed and hugged and chatted for a while before Molly had to run off to meet with Marion. Ema watched Gustav closely as Molly jogged out of the shop and into the sunshine. His eyes followed him as he passed by the windows, but Molly looked up the street with his chin in the air and did not see Gustav wave to him. Ema watched his shoulders slump, the rise and fall of his chest as he sighed, the nervous hands that smoothed down his hair and adjusted his shirttails.

            “Gustav, honey,” Ema asked quietly. He turned to meet her gaze and her intense black eyes bored through him. “Be careful. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

            He blinked at her. “But Ema, if I don’t, I could lose this opportunity. This is enormous. This could change everything for us!”

            “Yeah,” she agreed. “It sure could.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moliggan Brightside sings “I Wish I Was The Moon” by Neko Case.

 

             The following day in the early afternoon, Molly sat in his usual spot in the wharfside park and played in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the huge trees. Three or four people at a time would stop and listen, some threw him a coin or two and he nodded appreciatively. The tunes he played were languid and in a minor key.

Last night he’d come home late after rehearsal for Princess Peacock’s latest show and Gustav was already asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Molly slept uncomfortably on the divan. He woke a few hours later as Gustav kissed him goodbye and headed out to work. They had spent a total of three hours together in the last twenty-four. Molly’s brows knitted together as he picked out a melody, humming along and getting lost in the music. _“I’m so lonely,”_ he sang softly. _“I wish I was the moon, tonight…”_

            “Hello!” a familiar voice chimed from below.

            Molly opened his eyes and looked down over the edge of the five-foot high block of granite he sat on. “Yiayia! How did you get out?” he teased.

            “Ha ha. Help me up, boy.”

            He put his instrument back in its case and leaned forward to help pull the little gnome he called ‘granny’ up onto his perch. “Seriously, Ema, I know you don’t have time to come see me during the day. What are you up to?”

            She smirked at him. “Bet you can’t guess.”

            Molly frowned, not liking his chances. “I’m in trouble.”

            “Probably.”

            “You’re mad at me.”

            “Not yet.”

            He cocked his head to the side, getting frustrated for a moment. He folded his arms. “You'll be mad at me if I don't do something you want me to do?”

            “Getting warm.”

            “Yiayia, just tell me.”

            Ema smiled softly. “Do you love Gustav?”

            Molly’s mouth hung open and he shuddered. “O-of course I do!”

            “Have you ever told him?”

            A good question. Molly straightened up. “Perhaps not in so many words. But it’s not how I operate, I don’t need words to express how I feel.”

            “He does.”

            Molly’s heart twisted. “He told you this?”

            “Not in so many words,” she parroted, a little mockingly. “But I did hear him ask you to make a commitment to him and heard you laugh in his face.”

            Molly shifted uncomfortably on the little cushion he sat on. “I just don’t like that word.”

            “Do you even know what it means?” When he didn’t answer, Ema sighed. “Did you know I’ve been married twice?” she asked quietly. He shook his head. Emerald Fletching, the former Crystal Bulan, lowered her head and smiled.

“The first time was a mistake. Our parents thought it would be a good match. It wasn’t. So we got out of it. The second time, it was for love.” She looked off at the glistening waves, reached into the neck of her shirt and pulled up a gold chain revealing two little rings that clinked together. She rubbed them with her fingers a few times then put them back close to her heart.   
            “We lived in Hupperdook and had thirty-two good years together. He was an engineer.” “Even when we were apart, when his work kept him long hours, we had made a promise to each other, a testimony to the strength of our love that kept us strong when times were tough. It helped me to be strong and supportive, even if I couldn't be right by his side as much as I wanted to be. I was glad for it when I missed him. I’m glad for it still, long after he died many, many years ago.” Her eyes found Molly’s and she smiled kindly on him. “You might think it’s just words, just paper, just bits of metal. But it’s what they stand for that means so much to people like me, and like Gustav. I hope you can get around whatever discomfort it is you feel about promising to stay by his side so that you can give him what he deserves.”

            Ema stood, bent down and kissed Molly on the forehead. “I love you both,” she said, leapt down and walked away.

 

.x.

            In only a few weeks Molly had helped gather a dozen or more models from his connections in the performing arts for Gustav’s big debut fashion show in the Opal Archways. A collection of slender, stocky, curvy, and fit people of various colors, sexes, and races had garments adjusted for each of them to show off to the aristocracy. The show was held in a grand pavilion cloistered in the Epwint estate, far from prying eyes, and was rumored to be the hottest ticket for a month in either direction. Only those with the tightest connections could attend. Musicians hired from the best of those Gustav and Molly had ever seen in town were hired to play spirited, upbeat tunes the likes of which many posh attendees had never heard.

            The show itself lasted perhaps fifteen brief but exciting minutes. In a small room behind the walkway, Gustav and two assistants hastily changed models into their next outfits and though there were a few hiccups (one model almost fell descending the three steps to the walkway, but managed not to fall flat on his face, and two models went out at once, causing the errant model to laugh and quickly swing back into the room), it went very well for their first time.

            None of the models wore shoes and all those with hair wore it tied back very tightly. Molly wore three outfits: a stiffly-paneled dress in blues and greens designed to keep a rectangular shape from hip to ankle with a tight-fitting, sleeveless, high-necked bodice; a suit of pale grey silk with cropped pants and an asymmetrical jacket worn open and shirtless (there were some gasps at the sight of his scars and tattoos, but by the looks on their faces, the audience was more titillated than scandalized); and lastly a tight, dark grey silk top with an unfolded short collar, long sleeves, an asymmetrical closure covered in buttons from the left side of his neck to his waist, and a series of pleats gathered at the base of the closure. A bight swath of impossibly bright pink silk ribbon ran along the border of the closure. The top’s hem tapered right-to-left from his mid-thigh to his left knee over a pair of tight, pale grey silk trousers.

            When the last model had their turn, they all emerged again, pulling Gustav along with them and the crowd applauded him. The former ringleader thanked his models and invited the attendees to enjoy the food and drink provided by their most excellent host, Sir Epwint, and that he would love to speak to anyone who wished to talk to him about his work. For the next three hours he would sip wine and nibble cheese with some of the richest people (who liked to spend their money on beautiful clothes) in Nicodranas.

            The models were also invited to remain at the party so that they could further show off the fashions they wore. Molly hovered close to Gustav for the first twenty minutes or so, but decided that he was doing just fine without him. He spied a tray of little tomato mouse canapes and wound through the crowd toward them. He was stopped three times along the way by nobility who wanted to see his garment more closely. They oohed and awed over its construction, bold, simple lines, and use of exciting colors. One woman asked him to do a little turn for her and he acquiesced with a smile, though his skin was starting to crawl. These people were pleasant, they had nice things to say about his partner’s work, but not a single one of them was a tiefling, let alone a dwarf, or halfling, or anything other than elven or human, and they were all screamingly rich and wanted everyone to know it. Molly knew they saw him as little more than a walking mannequin if he was lucky. “If you’ll excuse me, madame, the canapes are calling,” he said, bowing low and fluidly pivoting to turn away from yet another request.

            Fortunately, the canapes were amazing. He sighed contentedly as the luscious flavors hit his tongue.

            “Gorgeous,” a low voice purred into his ear almost making him choke on the last bite. Molly turned quickly to see a stocky human man with balding black hair leering at him. His eyes roved over him, but Molly got the impression he was not just ogling his clothes. He waved his index finger, indicating he wanted Molly to do a spin to show him the whole package just as a woman had done earlier, but Molly stood where he was.

            “Yes,” he agreed, waving a hand over his top. “Isn’t his work incredible?”

            The man narrowed his eyes a little. “That too,” he said. “I am Compte Davoot deJardin,” he added expectantly, lifting his chin in the air.

            “I am Her Royal Highness of the Wandering Eye, Princess Peacock,” Molly answered, turning his cheek to the left to better show him the feathers that graced the side of his face.

            DeJardin chuckled. “You’ll do nicely” he said quietly.

            “I’m sorry?” Molly’s stomach flipped and he scanned for Gustav, but he was blocked from view by a crowd of admirers.

            “How much? Don’t be coy, now.” deJardin sneered and reached a hand out to touch him, but Molly cleverly parried him as he reached for another canape. “Oh, I think I shall.” The Compte’s face darkened under a false smile and he tried again to grasp Molly’s wrist, but Molly twisted his arm away and pressed the thick tomato mouse of the canape against the noble’s sleeve with the other. Molly grinned and shrugged. “Oh, I’m sorry, Compte Daboot deFartin was it? Looks like you’ll have to go home and change. What a shame.”

            “How _dare_ you!” deJardin shouted, drawing the attention of many partygoers in earshot, including Gustav, who’s smile fell as he saw Molly shrugging with a smug look on his face. He gave him a look of confusion and perhaps disappointment that made Molly’s heart sink. “Oh, shit,” he hissed and fled from deJardin.

.x.

            Molly found an alcove tucked away from the crowd and leaned against a stone rail, looking high above the city to the north. He took deep breaths of the cool sea breeze and calmed himself. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Come on, Brightside, get it together.”

            “Molly?” He turned to see Gustav standing in the entrance to the alcove. His brows were arched with concern. “What was that all about? Are you alright?”

            “Fine!” He beamed. “I got clumsy—a little claustrophobic. I’ll just head home rather than embarrass you, again.” He put his chin down and made to sweep past him, but Gustav stepped into his path and put his hand on his shoulder.

            “Embarrass me? Molly, what happened?”

            “Nothing! It’s fine! Really, Gustav. It’s just me. I don’t belong here. This is your chance to show them how bright you shine—I’m just tarnishing you.”

            “You do not tarnish me!” Gustav said forcefully, shocking his partner. “If I can’t do this without you, I don’t want to do it. I need you.” He cupped Molly’s face with his hand.

            Molly smiled and touched Gustav’s face with light fingertips. “I just need to get some space for a moment, darling. Please? I'll come right back.”

            Gustav searched his face, his bloodred eyes, the curve of his false smile. “Alright,” he breathed, and Molly pulled away from him and briskly walked away. “Do come back to me, Molly!” he called after. As tears started form, Molly could only raise a hand to acknowledge that he had heard him.

.x.

            Sir Epwint excused himself from a conversation as one of his security guards approached and bowed, requesting his attention. When they had withdrawn to a quiet corner, the aristocrat sipped his drink nonchalantly and raised a brow. “What is it?”

            “Apologies, My Lord. There was a bit of a scene between one of the models and Compte deJardin. He is requesting recompense for a soiled garment.”

            “Were there any witnesses?”

            “None that I saw, besides myself, My Lord.”

            “Your opinion?”

            “deJardin got what he deserved, My Lord.”

            Sir Epwint counted to three under his breath and pursed his lips. “He snuck in with Lord Normund, didn’t he?”

            “I believe so, My Lord.”

            “Do convey my disappointment in the Compte’s behavior after you’ve discreetly escorted him from the premises.”

            “Right away, My Lord.”

            He casually returned to his guests, and from the corner of his eye watched as his security detail whisked the Compte deJardin away. Epwint clicked his tongue, but on surveying the large and jovial crowd, he grinned, satisfied that all was well.

 

.x.

            The Ruby of the Sea had just returned from her private bath and was busy practicing some self-care, filing and painting her nails, when Molly stopped in for a surprise visit.

            “Come in, Molly,” she called, knowing the pattern of his knock “I have a few moments only, but I do so love to see your face, and look at your clothes! How gorgeous you look! Are those Gustav’s?” She grinned at him as she ran the little brush over her pinky nail, coating it in a glossy violet. She then noticed her friend looked distraught. “Is something wrong?”

            “Mer, I need some advice.”

            “I’ll do my best.” She blew on her completed nails.

            “I love Gustav so much, but I’ve never _told him_ I love him.”

            “Psh. Easy. Do it.”

            Molly laughed nervously.

            “I’m serious. It’s ok. He will be overjoyed!”

            He folded his arms, tucking his hands under and hugging himself nervously. “But I don’t think I’m good enough for him and I think he wants to marry me.”

            Marion gasped and held her splayed hands to her face, careful not to touch the wet paint to anything. She let a small squeal of delight escape before noting his expression wasn’t one of pure joy. “Wait. I overreacted to the word “marry”... _not good enough_?!”

            He quickly seated himself across from her and put his head down on the table. “He’s so incredible and he’s going to be rich and famous and I’m just a lazy-ass queen with expensive tastes who does nothing to contribute whatsoever.”

            “That is not true. You are modeling for him right now!”

            Molly made a non-committal sort of whimper as if to say ‘I don’t think that counts’.

            “Moliggan Brightside, sit up straight!”

            His head shot up and he stared at her in surprise.

            “You are wonderful and Gustav loves you _and_ your perceived flaws.”

            His lower lip quivered. “I’m scared.”

            “Oh!” Marion cried and stopped short before she thrust her wet fingernails at him. She flailed comically, frustrated that she couldn’t hug him. “Well of course you are!”

            “Of course?”

            “Marriage is a big step. How long have you been together?”

            “More than half a year,” he mumbled.

            “Mmm that’s not _that_ long.”

            “Right?! I mean, he’s wonderful and I love him, but…” He bit his lip.

            “But?”

            “I can’t see the future.”

            Marion raised a brow. “Molly, no one can.”

            “I mean, _he can!_ He sees where he wants to go, what he wants to happen months from now—years from now. I just, _don’t._ I _can’t._ I don’t do past and I don’t do future. I do _now_.”

            Her lips curled up on one side. “Do you want now to keep going? Can you not imagine a day when you don’t get to hold him in your arms? If you came home to an empty house, would it feel terrible? Would being called his husband make you so proud you could just burst?”

            Molly took a deep breath and his features softened. “I suppose so.”

            Marion nodded. “You wanted my advice? Stop thinking and listen to your heart.”

            He sighed, stood, bent down and gave her a kiss on the head just as Ema had given him weeks before. “Thanks, Mer. I have a party to get back to.”

 

.x.

            Molly jogged back the short distance to the party and climbed the stairs to the veranda. Almost immediately a servant offered him a tall, thin glass of sparkling wine. People shifted through Molly’s vision like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope as he sipped the wine and scanned the crowd. His vision focused at last on a soft, ash-brown braid of hair. Gustav wore a light jacket in deep, rich plum with bright fuchsia accents over a light grey shirt, a little open at the collar. His long legs were accentuated by dark plum trousers, crisply pressed and angular. He stood with his weight on his left foot, one hand in a pocket, the other gesturing as he spoke to a small group of people before him. Molly watched the curve of his grin as he took yet another compliment for his designs from the group. He smoothed his hand over his hair and let it rest briefly on the back of his neck, appearing both bashful and grateful at the same time. His eyes wrinkled slightly as the grin spread. Then the laugh. That wonderful laugh. Light and easy. Completely genuine.

            A startled chuckle escaped him as Molly shook his head, raised his glass of sparkling wine and toasted quietly “to the future”. He caught Gustav’s eye. His lips parted. Even before the wine had a chance to work, Molly’s face flushed plum as Gustav smiled, raised his hand and beckoned him over.

            He had to cross a sea of wealthy people to get to him and before diving in, Molly took a deep breath. “Ok, head, shut up for once and let the heart do its thing,” he muttered and gave himself strength. He thought about how Gustav had cared for him so tenderly, given everything for him so completely, and how insignificant his discomfort was compared to what this man had put himself through. Things were different now, but he wouldn’t always be so busy. He could do this. He had to try to be what Gustav needed right now. Molly held his chin high and wove through the little groups of conversation, deftly twisting and pivoting around elbows and trays of hors d'oeuvres, drawn as if by an invisible cord to his partner’s side.

            Gustav extended his hand toward him as if pulling that cord and took his free hand in his. “This is my partner, Moliggan Brightside,” he introduced him to a tall human man wearing one of Gustav’s suits in bright cerulean with lemon yellow accents. “This is my benefactor, Sir Kelren Epwint.”

            “A pleasure, Sir Epwint,” Molly squeezed Gustav’s hand and bowed his head respectfully.

            The aristocrat looked him up and down and Molly’s pulse raced, but the corner of noble’s mouth curved pleasantly as he saw the two men’s hands intertwine. “Your partner is a very talented man, Mr. Brightside. This piece you have modeled for us is especially stunning.”

            Molly beamed with pride and relief. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

            “He has brought new life to the fashion of this city. It’s an exciting time. And when he opens his shop here in the Archways, everyone in Nicodranas will know his name.”

            Molly’s heart sank. “Another shop?” he asked, voice high as he tried to hide his horror.

Gustav laughed nervously. “Isn’t that great news! Sir Epwint is going to help me a little, but yes! A new shop for high fashion. The first of its kind! I’m so excited to have the freedom to express myself through my designs.”

            Gustav unabashedly brought Molly’s hand to his lips and gave it quick, soft kiss.

            “That’s wonderful news, darling,” Molly chimed, false smile firmly in place. He downed the last of his wine and deposited the empty glass on a servant’s passing tray. “I’m so happy for you!” he said, clutched his partner’s hand tightly, blotted tears from his painted eyes with his sleeve and hailed another servant to bring him fresh drink.

 

.x.

            Work on the new shop was slow and complicated. Getting the right space, finding workers to make renovations to accommodate his needs, all the while shouldering the steady workload he and Ema dealt with at Fletching & Fletching took quite a lot of Gustav’s time. Much of their income already went to paying the installments due the shop’s previous owner, and now, more of it was required for startup costs for the new shop. Sir Epwint had made a small investment with the promise of more, but it was clear this was contingent upon Gustav’s success.

.x.

            Molly came to the shop around closing time one afternoon about a week after the fashion show wearing one of the suits Gustav had tailored for him and carrying a bouquet of lush flowers. His partner raised a brow. “Are those for me?”

            “Nope,” Molly said grinning and turned to Ema Fletching. “These are for my Yiayia.”

            She stared at him as if his head were on fire as he bent down to kiss her cheek and whisper “You win.” Ema’s eyes widened a bit but her poker face was as solid as ever. “You are a sweetheart, Molly. I think I’ll keep you.”

            He laughed and extended his hand to Gustav. “Come to dinner with me tonight. I found a fancy place in the Opal Archways I told Marion I’d try for her.”

            “We really can’t afford it, right now,” he said apologetically as he took his hand. “And we’re going to have to put house hunting on the back burner, I’m afraid.”

            Molly repressed a shudder and shook his head, gripping his hand tightly. “It’s on me.” He pulled a small coin purse from his pocket and shook it for emphasis. “Been saving up.”

            At Ema’s urging that she could close up without him, Gustav relented and agreed to take the night off.

.x.

            “Just where is this place?” Gustav asked as they climbed yet another set of stairs. It was warm and they were both sweating a little as they made their way higher up into a fancy hotel. The stairs were narrow and did not seem the kind that guests should be using.

            “Nearly there!” Molly chimed, pulling him along by the hand. At last, they reached a door. Molly looked both ways and opened it onto a small balcony. He could not hide a mischievous grin. “Humor me?” he asked and coaxed him outside.

            The view to the southwest was unimpeded by other structures and encompassed almost all Nicodranas and its harbor. The sun was setting, and the world was bathed in orange light. Gustav stepped to the railing and marveled at the view. “You are a sneak,” he said. “What a wonderful sight.”

            Molly didn’t look out. He looked at his partner. “Yep.”

            Noticing this, Gustav turned to face him and leaned his elbow on the rail. He blushed a bit under such adoration and took his right hand in his left. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a home with this view? If I can succeed at this venture, Molly, I could give it to you. I’d give you the entire city if I could get it for you.”

            “I don’t care if I live in a dung heap as long as it’s with you,” Molly said. “Though a room with a view would be lovely. Or at least a breeze. And more than two rooms.”

            Gustav laughed. Molly swooned and as easy as the breeze itself he confessed. “I love you, Gustav Fletching.”

            Gustav’s lips parted, but he was left speechless.

            “And I never want to be without you.” He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand. Opening it revealed two shining platinum rings. “Would you let me call you ‘husband’?”

            Gustav’s eyes shone with tears in the soft, orange light and flicked from Molly’s face to the rings and back. He could do nothing but nod for a moment until his senses returned so that he could say ‘yes’. Molly squeezed his left hand and after a few awkward attempts and nervous laughs Molly gave his ring to Gustav and they exchanged them.

            “I promise,” Molly began, “To stand by your side, to support you, and to love you…” his voice wavered. “Forever.”

            Gustav wept quietly as he let Molly slip the ring on his finger.

A week before, Molly had cleverly made him try on all his rings at once, teasing him that he never wore them, and that he wanted to see what they looked like. He held Molly’s ring in his hand and looked into his shining red eyes.

“I promise to stand by your side,” he repeated, voice shaking as he placed it on Molly’s finger, then laced their fingers together. “To support you, and to love you, forever.” They kissed deeply for a long while before they had calmed their racing hearts and stood with arms around each other, looking out at the sunset as it washed low clouds in magenta, peach, and plum colors.

            “You are the love of my life,” Gustav said and nuzzled the top of Molly’s head between his horns. “I’m so proud of you. I thought maybe I was going to have to fight you on this, but I guess Ema got to you, didn’t she?”

            He nodded. “And Marion. And Lily. And Poppy. And Maurice…”

            Gustav laughed and gave him a squeeze. “Good!”

            “I had the rings made special,” Molly said quietly and Gustav lifted his hand to more closely inspect the band. It was perhaps a quarter-inch wide and the platinum was bisected by an indentation running the length of it. At one point, the platinum crossed the indent, making a soft x-shape. “The tarnished silver in the middle is darkness, and the platinum is the brightness our love surrounds it with.”

Gustav wove his fingers into Molly’s hair and kissed his head again. “Molly, I’m so happy I could scream.”

            “Please don’t,” he said quickly, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. “We’re not really supposed to be up here.”

            Gustav laughed again as the last bit of red faded to violet. “Then we should get going. We _are_ going to dinner, yes?”

            “Yes!” Molly chimed.

It worked. Gustav was happy and Molly felt as if his own heart would burst with love as he gazed up at his husband. Molly practically purred as he realized he had him to himself for the whole night. “This gold is burning a hole in my pocket. Let’s go blow it.” They turned to go back through the door and Molly stopped short. It was cracked open and a blond human woman in a bellhop uniform peered out through the gap. She sniffled and opened the door wide, bidding them come back inside. She couldn’t speak but gave them a teary thumbs up and waved them along. Molly slipped her a silver and pecked a kiss on her cheek as the newlyweds laughed and hurried down the stairs.

 

.x.

            Their wedding night was spent in gratuitous bliss. From the fine wine and sumptuous meal to the lovemaking that followed, Molly was well sated for days after. But soon enough, a nagging anxiousness returned, and he became fidgety and quiet. Gustav was so preoccupied with the new shop (which Marion Lavorre had named “Gustav Couture”) that he didn’t often notice. Whenever he did ask what was troubling his love, Molly would smile and change the subject, or worse, lie. It was nerves about the new Princess Peacock show he was working on. It was the weather. It was an upset stomach.

            “Molly, do tell me if something’s amiss,” Gustav asked one morning, crouched as he did at the side of the bed that Molly always stayed in until the sun was well over the yardarm. “I’d hate for you to be upset with me.”

            “Never with you!” Molly cried. “Never.”

            Gustav gave him a kiss and when he heard the door to their little apartment close behind him Molly sniffled. “It’s not you,” he whispered. “It’s me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poppy Hervy sings and Lily Odevalley performs “Fever” by Peggy Lee. Poppy Hervy sings and Princess Peacock performs “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin.  
> This chapter contains NON-CON and DRUG ABUSE.

 

             One sunny afternoon a few months later, while playing his saz in the park, Molly looked down to see a sweet-looking young elven woman waiting for him to finish his somber tune. She held a silver piece in her hand and worried it with her thumb. “Are you ok?” she asked, quietly.  
Molly blinked at her. “Huh?”

            “Your songs are usually so bright and uplifting. Is everything ok?” she asked.

            Molly beamed a smile at her. “Oh, yes. Fine. Just feeling a little blue today. Thank you.”

            She nodded shyly and dropped the silver in his paper hat. When she had walked off, Molly put his instrument away and sat there for a long while, hugging the case and looking out at the waves and the coming and going of ships. “A little blue,” he chided himself.

 

.x.

            When the bell rang, Ema Fletching looked around a customer standing in front of her and cried, “there’s my grandson!”

            The customer, a stocky human man, craned his neck and did a double take at the lavender tiefling. _“Grandson?”_

            Molly doffed an invisible hat. _“In-law._ Hello, Yiayia.”

            “Just in time. Here, hold this,” she said and had him assist her with the alteration. “Gustav’s up at the fancy shop.”

            “Ah.” Molly watched the little gnome woman’s hands work as she basted the fabric where she would adjust the sizing. After she had finished with the man and he left the shop, she asked Molly to help her take inventory.

 

            “You’re trying to distract me,” Molly said as he counted spools of thread.

            “Is it working?”

            “Sure. You don’t want me bothering Gustav.”

            “Nonsense. You wouldn’t go up there even if I told you to go.”

            “Then why are you—?”

            “I'm observant. Unlike my beloved, hardworking grandson. You gonna tell him how miserable you are?”

            Molly dropped a spool and lost count again. “I’m not— I’m _supportive_ ,” he insisted. “I believe in what he’s doing—pursuing his dream to make beautiful art with clothes and making a better life for us! He doesn’t need me pestering him—” he faltered, coming too close to the truth. “—Making him crazier than he is.”

            “Molly. A marriage only works when both halves are happy.”

            He opened his hands and with a skyward eye-roll let the spools fall back into their box, giving up on trying to keep count. “He say anything to you?”

            “No.”

            “Then what makes you think I’m not happy?” he asked, a bit of an edge to his voice.

            “Ok. Look me in the eyes and tell me you are.”

            Molly called upon bullshit crafted over multiple lifetimes and bent to peer into her large, black eyes. “I’m _blissfully_ happy.”

            Ema did not blink. The corner of her mouth twitched. “You can lie to me, boy, but don’t lie to yourself, or to Gustav. Talk to him.”

            Molly straightened back up and folded his arms. “Or else?”

            She shook her head sadly. “I want you both to have a long, wonderful marriage, but I won’t interfere.”

            “Good.” Molly picked up his instrument case and marched out of the shop. “Because it’s none of your business.”

.x.

            For the sixth time, Gustav went to the Wandering Eye to witness the debut of a new Princess Peacock show. Molly was adamant about not spoiling it for him before the first performance, and over the course of several months, he had seen five such reveals, each more entrancing than the last. A few days before the public got to see it, Molly would always give his mentor The Ruby of the Sea a command performance (in partial costume—the hair was always too difficult). She was delighted with his progress and told him she wished she had the courage to go out and see him bewitch an audience.

            Before the show began, Gustav got a good table and enjoyed a glass of wine while Molly and Lily prepped in the green room. Poppy Hervy, the little tiefling woman who always sang for Molly and Lily’s shows, joined Gustav at his table and leaned in toward him. Though he found it frustrating to try to hear her, Gustav marveled at her ability to combat an absolutely crushing social anxiety disorder. Poppy was gifted with a singing voice that could stir passion in the hearts of her listeners but could not bear to face them while using it and could carry on conversations only at a whisper. Her physical presence was slight and short, and she sat with legs folded under her and shoulders slumped forward to make herself look even smaller. Long grey horns stretched straight back from her forehead and crowned a head of wavy black hair. She looked across the table at Gustav with bright green eyes through thick-framed glasses.

            “Been a while!” she whispered. “Busy?”

            “Quite! I officially opened the new shop last week. It’s been hard work, but also so exciting.”

            “You’ve made such pretty clothes.”

            “Tip of the iceberg! I’m going to have such freedom to create once the business is thriving. Might be a while, but it’ll be worth it.”

            “A while?” Poppy asked, tilting her head to the side.

            “Half a year or so, I imagine.”

            “Cool. Excuse me?” she asked, hopped out of her chair, and flitted backstage.

.x.

            In the greenroom, Maurice was just about done lacing Lily up into their corset.

            “Maurice!” Molly cried from behind a folding screen on the other end of the room. His hand waved over the top. “I need you!!”

            Maurice groaned loudly but easily pivoted to go help him as Poppy poked her head in the door.

            “Lily,” she hissed and waved them over.

            “Great, help me on with this?” Lily asked and tossed her a shimmering gown covered in green sequins.

            Poppy nodded and as she helped her friend into their costume and wig she whispered, “Gustav’s here.”

            “Good!”

            “He seems ok.”

            “Also good.”

            “I mean, he doesn’t seem like he’s _not_ ok,” she said, and her eyes flicked to the folding screen, behind which Gustav’s husband was being fitted by Maurice.

            Lily rolled their eyes and whispered back “Brightside doesn’t want to tell him. You can’t get in the middle of this. Besides, he’s spoiled as hell. He misses him because he’s busy is all. It’ll pass.”

            “But, he’s really sad and lonely and I feel bad that he’s not telling his husband.”

            “Pop, he’s a grown-ass adult,” Lily hissed as Poppy finished adjusting their wig and went to look at in the mirror. “He doesn’t want to share, that’s his business. Even if it is annoying.”

            Poppy looked dejected, the plan she’d cooked up to be the one to help mend her friend’s heart had gone up in smoke, but she nodded in agreement. Lily had a point. It wasn’t their business.

            Lily turned in place. “Well? How do I look?” they asked and struck a pose. Poppy smiled and gave a thumbs up. Then Molly emerged from behind the screen. Lily’s smile fell. “Holy shit, Brightside. Remind me never to open for you ever again, you gorgeous bastard.”

.x.

            With only fifteen minutes until the performance, the Wandering Eye was packed for Princess Peacock’s latest show. Gustav had long since abandoned his table and stood close to the front and only a few shorter people stood before him. The crowd’s anticipation even before Molly hit the stage thrilled him. He scanned the room and saw some familiar faces including the tall, thin queen known as Sinamon half-sitting on the lip of the stage. When the MC came on, she saw this, fluidly swung over and hip-checked her shoulder, pushing her off and causing a peel of laughter to roll across that section of the audience.

            “Just because you’ve been on the stage doesn’t mean your ass belongs here all the time, honey,” she said. Sinamon was visibly chagrined. “Alright people, simmer down. We have two very hot shows for you tonight…”

            The crowd whistled and cheered.

            “First, let’s get this steamy night started with a little fever courtesy of our beloved Miss Lily Odevalley!”

            Lily’s performance, to a song about how “chicks were meant to bring you fever,” went over well. Poppy’s surprisingly deep and sultry voice paired perhaps more perfectly with Odevalley’s presence than with the Princess, but they put on two very different shows. Lily Odevalley was all about personality—she made eye contact with everyone and sold every word and every note of the song she presented as her own. Princess Peacock used Poppy’s voice as but one element in an entrancing dance routine, using her body to speak to the audience.

            Tonight, as the spectral lights dimmed, a drum led a slow, thrumming rhythm strummed by a lute and a melody played on violin. Laced with tiny bells, Princess Peacock’s right foot poked out from behind a curtain at the back of the stage and slowly the rest of her emerged, covered in sheer orange, red, and yellow silks and gold jewelry from horn to toe. Red feathers were tied into her hair. She held a pair of long, sheathed blades in her hands and moved achingly slowly and gracefully, taking center stage and mouthing the words as Poppy Hervy began to sing. _“Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, with stars to fill my dream. I am a traveler of both time and space to be where I have been…”_

            She writhed and spun to the beat, popping her hips and occasionally causing the audience to shout and whistle at a particularly impressive or athletic move, but they really cheered when she unsheathed the scimitars.

            The Princess slowly spun the weapons (which no one could tell weren’t sharp enough to butter toast) as she danced, balancing them on her chest, and the top of her head, then on her forearms, dancing lower and lower until she was doing a split, arms waving and the swords shining in the twinkling magical lights. Suddenly, she flexed, popping the swords into the air from that position, leapt up and caught them as she spun around, silks flying off and revealing more of her lavender toned, scarred, and tattooed flesh. The Princess struck a pose for a beat causing everyone to hold their breath before the song went into the bridge again.

            Everyone in the club gasped then exploded in hoots and hollers, stomping on the floor, clapping, and whistling their adoration of her. Gustav bit his lip as he watched her dance. Occasionally, her gaze would meet his, and once, she winked at him causing all those around him to shriek with joy.

.x.

            After the show, the crowd thinned a bit, but the Wandering Eye was still quite lively.  Gustav’s table had long since been taken over by strangers. He leaned against the foot of the stage and waited patiently, watching people to while away the time as the Princess turned back into Moliggan. He caught Sinamon’s eye and she sneered but nodded at him as if acknowledging his presence. Her eyes widened, looking just above him and a moment later a pair of lavender hands covered his eyes. “Guess who?”

            “Not sure! Is this royalty or my husband?”

            Molly laughed and bowed over him to kiss him upside down. “Currently, your husband!” He jumped down next to him. “What did you think?!”

            “Amazing. What you did with those swords…”

_“Scimitars!"_

            “Right. You used to wield those as weapons.”

            “I thought maybe! I had one of those flashes when I was starting the choreography…” he began but was cut off as Sinamon butted into their conversation.

            “Good show, Princess,” she complemented, not looking at the man whose arms were around him.

            “Thanks!” Molly chimed.

            “Hey, there’s a party next week at my club. You should come.”

            Molly looked hopefully to Gustav. “Oh, can we, darling?”

            “I’m not sure I can.”

            His shoulders slumped a little. “Please? It’s a whole week away, surely you can find some time?”

            “I suppose.”

            Sinamon scoffed. “What? You can’t do anything without his permission?”

            “I—” annoyed by her attitude, he started to say that he didn’t want to do _anything_ without Gustav, but he held his tongue. He went from enjoying having his husband come out with him for the first time in two weeks to feeling like it would be another two weeks before it would happen again. Molly turned back to Sinamon. “We’ll be there.”

 

.x.

            A week later, Molly sprang into Gustav Couture humming happily. He’d spent the day at dance practice and playing his saz and was ready for a fun night out with his husband. He waited patiently for Gustav to be free and looked around the shop. The space was far smaller than that of Fletching & Fletching and more spare—only a handful of garments graced slim generic mannequins, but those were exchanged with a new design on a weekly basis. The decor was plush, suitable for the higher-income patrons of the Opal Archways. Molly lounged in a velvet upholstered chair and watched Gustav take an order. When he finished, he crossed the room and kissed him in greeting. “What brings you up here?” he asked with a pleased smile.

            “I’m just so excited for tonight.”

            “Tonight?”

            Molly’s heart sank. “The party?”

            “Oh, gods, Molly I forgot. I can’t go. There’s a pile of things I have to work on this evening, and I have to be up very early tomorrow for—”

            Molly tried very hard to keep his emotions in check, but he could feel tears starting to form and leapt up from his seat and headed for the door, startling Gustav.

            “D-do you want to get some dinner together later?”

            “No, that’s ok,” he turned and back pedaled until he clumsily hit the door. The bells jingled. “I thought we could—” he started to say he’d planned that they would go out to eat together before the party but stopped himself. “But no big deal, darling, really. Just a party, you’d be bored out of your mind, anyway.”

            “I’m so sorry,” Gustav said, not arguing with him. “Please have a good time without me.”

            “I’ll do my best.” Molly flashed a closed-eye smile and hurried from the shop.

 

.x.

            At a fashionably late hour, Lily and Poppy arrived at the party at the club perhaps not-so-affectionately known as The Bucket. Poppy mouthed the name and gave her friend a look. “I know, right?” Lily agreed. It made the Wandering Eye look like the Lavish Chateau. Lily was a little disappointed that it was so dark inside because they felt that the outfit they were sporting was worth being seen, but decided that it helped. The walls and decor were also all painted black to hide stains and who knows what else. A raucous band of five musicians played on the stage, magically amplified so that the sound filled the room and caused the partygoers to raise their voices. Poppy tried to say something to Lily but it was utterly lost. She gave up and signed _“I’m going dancing!”,_ beamed a smile, and skipped off into a crowd of bodies on the dancefloor. Lily laughed and scanned the room. Not seeing any familiar horns, they navigated to the bar and got a drink.

            About halfway through their ale, Lily heard a familiar voice and looked left.

            “Another!” Molly cried, foisting a tankard at the bartender who smirked, licked his lips at him and did as he commanded. He laughed flirtatiously in response. He wore a skin-tight top of a pale blue fabric that stretched from arm to arm across the shoulders, but left his belly and chest exposed, a pair of harlequin-patterned pants, also quite tight in gold, teal, and red, and faux gold jewelry hung from every imaginable point. Gold feathers were tied into his hair and gold makeup adorned his lips and eyes.

            “Brightside?!” Lily gawked at their friend.

            “Not tonight, Lily-my-heart,” he said and rushed to their side. “Don’t you recognize your Princess when you see her?”

            Lily laughed a little awkwardly. “You feelin’ ok?”

            “I am feeling just ducky,” Princess Peacock replied, accepting the refreshed drink from the bartender. “How about you?”

            “I’m feeling like maybe you’ve cracked. Since when does the most confident asshole I know feel the need to walk around in drag? Did that awful Sinamon kid get to you or something?”

            The Princess scoffed. “I sure I don’t know _what_ you mean.”

            “Ok, Brights–I mean, Your Highness,” Lily made a show of bowing from their stool and the Princess happily queen-waved with her chin in the air.

            “Ooh!” she chimed, having spied something over Lily’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil-child and she appears. Oh, Sinamon!” she called and flitted off toward the tall, skinny queen.

            Lily blinked and shook their head. “I hope you know what you’re doin’, Brightside,” they muttered to themselves.

 

.x.

            Emerald Fletching heard a commotion coming from the shop and peered through a crack in the connection door to her apartment. She saw her grandson dump a bunch of packages on the counter. Two of them slid off to the floor with a dull, fabricy thud. “Evening, Ema!” he chimed, lighting an oil lamp. “Sorry to disturb you. I just need to get through some backlog.”

            Ema watched him pat the ones that hadn’t fallen and chuckle to himself. He rounded the counter, pulled a ledger from beneath it and hopped up on a stool. He flipped its pages with one hand, pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the bags with the other, and started entering figures in the ledger.

            Ema frowned. “Gustav...”

            He froze in place for a beat then turned to smile on her. “I won’t be long. Just got to do some entries and catch up on some fittings.” He nodded and turned back to the work.

            “Go home.”

            He slapped the red pencil down and took a deep breath. “I can’t right now. There’s too much to do. And if it’s Molly you’re concerned about, it doesn’t matter, he’s out at a party tonight.”

            Ema stepped up to him and gently placed her hand on his forearm. “Then go to the party.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Just for an hour?”

            Gustav twitched. “Please!” he shouted. “I am so behind, Ema! If I leave this pile, even for a night, tomorrow it will be twice as high! And the debts will be even deeper.” Gustav’s facade eroded and he slumped on the stool. He put his face in his hands. “I thought it would be two seasons or so before I’d start to break even. Now it looks like three. And I can’t see when the hell it’ll ever make a profit if I can’t get out from under the overhead! I owe so much in rent and materials and I don’t have enough cash to order the machines I want from Hupperdook let alone hire some desperately needed help!” Tears poured down his face. “I wanted this so badly, Ema. With all the positive reinforcement from Epwint, I guess I got carried away. I thought I could do it. I thought I could be successful, that I could make a good life for Molly and me.”

            Ema spoke so softly and with such patience that it startled him. “What do you want, Gustav?”

            He rubbed his eyes with his thumbs and took a deep breath. “I want good things for Molly.”

            She shook her head. “Try again.”

            He looked at her quizzically.

            “What do _you_ want?”

            “I want to be happy. And in order to make myself happy, I want to do everything for Molly. When I was the ringmaster of a carnival, I was everyone’s dad. Everyone’s go-to, shoulder, confidant. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t or wouldn’t do for my troupe, When that ended I was lost. Finding Molly again saved me, Ema. Caring for him has saved my life and filled my soul with purpose. That’s all I want.”

            “What do you suppose _he_ wants? And don’t say something stupid like ‘nice things’.”

            Gustav looked down at the ledger and all the red entries he’d made. “He wants me to be happy. I know he’s been upset lately. He’s been keeping his discomfort to himself. I know. But I know why he’s doing it. He’s just trying to be supportive. I love him so much, Ema. I hate that I’m making him feel lousy. And that makes me hate all of this,” he said, sweeping an arm over the pile of work in front of him. “I know my marriage will fall apart if I don’t do something soon. I’ve been fighting it for a week or so now, but I’m done fooling myself. I know what I have to do,” he looked up at her. “I’m going to fold. I’ll pay Sir Epwint back over time. It’ll hurt, but I can’t stand this anymore. I’ll never have enough to get over the initial costs to make this venture a real success.”

            He was surprised to see tears in his grandmother’s eyes. “I am so sorry, Gustav. I know how much this meant to you, but I think you’re making the right decision. I know I’m a little biased because that means I get you back here full time, too, but, I think you’re right.” She gave him a hug. “Now. You have a party to get to. This crap can wait.”

            He hugged her back tightly and thanked her for her support and she fussed over his clothes and hair, making sure he looked his best before he headed out into the night.

 

.x.

            Sinamon blinked a few times dramatically at Princess Peacock. “Well,” she said and put a hand on a bony hip. She wore a tight, black leather top—more of a band across her chest than a shirt, a pair of tight, black shorts and hip-high boots to match. Her hair was blue tonight and hung straight down the left side of her head, clean shaven on the other. _“Princess,”_ she drawled. “Thanks for coming.”

            “Thank _you,”_ she replied and leaned in to whisper “I get why you do it, now.”

            “Do what, exactly?” Sinamon asked, intrigued.

            She leaned back and giggled. “I am Princess Peacock, and tonight, I do not give a _fuck.”_

            Sinamon’s eyes widened for a second before she slipped back into character. “Oh yeah? Sweet. Wanna get high?”

 

            Sinamon led the Princess around the edge of the dancefloor and up three steps where they quickly ducked behind the parted curtain stage right. Poppy Hervy, dancing up a storm, caught sight of them as they disappeared into the darkness of the wings. Her sibling-senses tingled, but the beats were too good to leave just yet. Besides, she thought, Molly was a ‘grown-ass adult’.

 

            Behind the curtain there were two doors, one marked “Exit” and another marked “Green Room”. Sinamon opened the latter door for the Princess and showed her into the smoky interior chamber where performers would dress and prepare to take the stage. Only a few, low oil lamps and candles lit the space and a thin haze of various smokes gave it a heavy, slow feeling. Two people chatted and passed a glass pipe near the door on the right. On the left, a samovar gave off a heady steam from a mysterious tea it was brewing. Two other people sat on a dilapidated red couch and listened to a third tell stories on a bench by the makeup mirror. Another two leaned against each other drowsily on the steps to another door on the opposite side of the long, narrow room. Sinamon pulled a little glass pipe from her pocket and packed it with something black and sticky. “This will get you fucked up,” she said firmly.

            “Alright,” the Princess drawled and took the first hit.

            Sinamon struck a pose and flourished her fingers, turning her palm into a gesture of invitation. “You wanna make out?” she asked.

            Moliggan Brightside winced. The drugs were indeed potent, and their effects were already working on him before the request registered. For a moment, he almost found himself saying yes, but the idea proved too repellent to consider. He gently shook his head, the feathers brushing his collarbone as he did and he transformed back into his alter-ego. She batted her gold-painted eyes at her. “Oh, darling, you are a precious child, but I’ll have to pass. Mr. Fletching would be so very upset with me if I did.”

            Sinamon took a hit of the resinous drug and shrugged. “Ok, whatever.” She handed the pipe back again. She reached into the same tiny pocket of her shorts from which she had retrieved the paraphernalia and pulled out something small, greasy, and black that the Princess couldn’t quite see. “But I suggest you smoke as much of this as you can.”

            This time, there was no hesitation. “Sounds good,” the Princess agreed and inhaled deeply.

.x.

            By the time Gustav arrived, The Bucket was packed with partygoers. People danced on the stage around the musicians and crowded the dance floor. He shouldered his way around the space, going first to the bar, but it was so deep with people waiting to get a drink he couldn’t get within ten feet of it. On the far side of it, he could see a copper-haired dwarf viciously making out with someone. “Well, they’re having a good time, anyway,” he muttered and continued his search.

            On the periphery of the clustered dancers, Gustav inched his way around and saw a pair of familiar horns bobbing around not far from the stage. He pressed his way through the throng and tapped Poppy on the shoulder. She turned, grinned up at him and waved in greeting.

            “Have you seen Molly?!” Gustav shouted.

            She nodded and pointed to the stage, curving her hand to indicate that he had gone behind the curtain. Gustav thanked her and made his way to the steps. Poppy gave a sigh of relief. She was so glad that he was taking some time to have fun for once. As the band wound down the song they were playing she went to the side and leaned against the wall for a moment. Poppy watched new musicians take the next shift, glad to recognize a few of them from other gigs at the Wandering Eye. Just as they started into their set, Poppy saw Gustav emerge from the wings stage right. He seemed confused and paused before turning on his heel, pushing the wing curtains aside, and quickly disappearing into the darkness.

            “Not good,” she mouthed, her sibling senses tingling harder now. She rushed as fast as she could around the crowd to the stage. Neither Molly nor Gustav were in the wings. She poked her head out the exit door but didn’t see anyone. She looked into the green room and froze. A silent gasp escaped her lips and she turned and bolted back out. She knew she could find Lily at the bar, but it was all the way across the crowded dance floor. The tiny tiefling started to push her way forward, but the going was slow. “Please,” she whispered. “I need to get to my friend.” Tears ran down her face. “Please, please…”

            It was several minutes before she emerged at the bar in front of Lily and their partner for the evening and grasped their arm tightly. “Lily, Molly’s in trouble,” she mouthed.

            Lily was a few sheets to the wind and cocked a brow at her. “Sorry, Pop, I got nothin’. Try signs?”

            She did and Lily scoffed. “Brightside’s the Princess, tonight. She’s makin’ her own bed. Let her lie in it.”

            “No,” she insisted. “It’s bad, please, Lily.”

            “Maybe this is a lesson he needs to learn,” Lily insisted and went back to kissing the human woman in their lap.

            Poppy Hervy wiped tears from her face and took a deep breath. “Lily! Please help!” she shouted in a deep, gravelly voice that no one ever got to hear spoken—only sung, and only from the shadows.

            Lily turned slowly, eyes wide and stared at her for a beat. They gently deposited the woman in their lap onto the stool they had been sitting on. “Keep my seat warm, I gotta go play hero,” they purred. “Gotta say, I didn't think I'd be rescuing a Princess, tonight.” They started for the front of the establishment and Poppy tugged at their shirt. “Less assholes in the way if we go around back,” they said and showed Poppy a hallway off the front entrance that skirted the main room and led to the back door of the green room.

.x.

            A few minutes before, Gustav pushed the curtains aside and peered into the darkness of the wings. He saw the exit door and the door marked “Green Room” which stood open and the unpleasant smell of drugs being smoked wafted toward him. He held his breath as he poked his head in the doorway, scanning the green room. Molly lay sprawled on the beat-up red couch. Hovering above him, Gustav recognized the queen called Sinamon whose left hand was buried down the front of Molly’s pants. As she kissed his neck Molly moaned softly, eyes closed, his right arm dangling loosely. Gustav watched, horrified, for a second, perhaps two, before pivoting and stumbling from the room.

            “Oh shit,” someone said laconically. “I think that was Princess’s husband.”

            Sinamon did not notice the interruption and continued to touch her quarry and mutter filthy things as she trailed kisses down his chest. She unfastened Molly’s pants and took out his dick. “Yeah, you’re paying attention to me now, aren’t you, bitch,” she said as she touched him and he moaned in response but as overdosed as he was, he could do nothing to stop her. Ten minutes later Sinamon came up for air, black lipstick smudged almost totally off and bit Molly’s ear fairly hard. “I’m so pissed the charm didn’t take. This is fun, but I really want you to fuck me, Princess,” she muttered. Even though she had just sucked off someone who was clearly incapacitated, none of the handful of stoners in the room intervened; a few watched closely with interest, others were too wrapped up in their own highs to be bothered.

            The slow, calm atmosphere was suddenly and violently broken as the back door slammed open, throwing the two people seated on the steps to the ground. Lily pounded down the steps and bounded toward the couch with Poppy hot on their heels.

            “Get the fuck off of him!”

            Sinamon looked up in time to see a tanned fist blur into her field of vision and connect with her face. Lily buried their knuckles into Sinamon’s jaw with their right then grasped her by the neck with their left, hauling her off of their friend and throwing her to the floor.

            The room fell silent.

            Poppy ran to Molly’s side and immediately focused on getting him dressed and righted. “It’s ok, Molly. Just your sister,” she whispered as he groaned uncomfortably at her touch. “Just putting you back in your pants. All safe now.” She sat on the edge of the couch, hovering over him and glared at those who dared to ogle her brother-from-another-mother in this vulnerable state. His eyes were half-closed, and he seemed to struggle to acknowledge her presence.

            The rumor that Sinamon was fucking Princess Peacock in the back must have spread to the dancefloor as the green room was filling with curious people of all sizes. Lily looked back and their brows arched. “Sorry I took so long, Brightside.”

            Meanwhile, Sinamon had crawled to her hands and knees and pulled the same small, black something from her pocket that she rubbed between her fingers. “I _suggest_ you back the fuck off,” she hissed.

            Lily’s eyes went wide as the spell was cast and they asked Poppy to watch Molly. “I’ll be right back,” they said. The strong, angry dwarf stormed over to Sinamon, took two handfuls—one of hair and one of pants—and hefted the much larger human over their head. Those who were blocking the doorway quickly parted and allowed them passage. Lily carried the shrieking offender this way back up the steps and turned to the right, kicking an exit door open and unceremoniously tossed Sinamon out onto the street. When she landed she cursed and rolled over a little and Lily reeled back and kicked her in the gut. “How about _you_ fuck off?” they shouted and squatted down to snarl into her ear. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you that you thought raping my friend was a good idea and I don’t care. You ever even so much as _look_ at Molly again and I will fucking kill you.”

            Sinamon whimpered in reply and Lily spat on her before turning and hurrying back inside. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle seemed a mixture of delighted, indifferent, or unsurprised and soon returned to the party.

            Poppy had propped Molly up to lean against her shoulder. A few people hovered around looking sympathetic and frightened. His eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open. “They said he took drugs with Sinamon,” Poppy whispered. “Bad stuff, lots of it. Smoked.”

            “We gotta get him outta here.”

            With Poppy’s help, Lily carried their friend out of the club through the same back entrance, though there was no trace of the disgraced queen except a smattering of coughed up blood on the cobblestones.

 

            They took him to the Wandering Eye and sat him on the fainting couch in the dressing room and wrapped him in one of its communal robes. He was so heavily sedated that he was falling in and out of consciousness, but they helped him to drink some water and stayed with him until the early morning hours when at last he regained the ability to speak. Poppy told him he’d been given some bad drugs, but they both couldn’t bring themselves to tell him what else had happened until he was fully aware. He thanked them and said he would be fine to sleep there and sent them home.

 

.x.

            Molly woke when a young man who was cleaning the bar stumbled upon him that afternoon. His head felt as if it had been cracked open and he paid the janitor to get him a bottle from the bar.

After a shot and a few minutes to collect himself, Molly slowly rose and started to stumble home. He passed the makeup mirror and was startled by the shape he was in. Molly plopped down on the bench and examined himself in the mirror. A black mark on his neck seemed out of place and a little scary so he opened the robe to investigate. Immediately, he knew Sinamon’s signature black lipstick and a memory pulsed through his mind. With trembling hand he pulled his pants down and knew by the trail of black smudges what had happened. Molly sat back down and stared at himself in the mirror.

            “Who _are_ you?” he asked the bedraggled reflection; the costume jewelry on his horns askew, some of it missing. “Is this Mollymauk? Is it the man before him? Or are we one and the same and I’m fooling myself that Moliggan is any different?” He frowned and the man in the mirror frowned back. Molly took a swig from the bottle and spat it out on the mirror then watched the liquid trail down, obscuring his image.

            He took another shot. Then another. Then another.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains alcohol abuse, vomiting, and references to child abuse.

 

            That evening after spending the day holed up at Gustav Couture and pretending to work, Gustav dragged himself back to their tiny apartment. He nearly shouted in alarm as he turned from closing the door and saw Molly lounging on the divan in the gathering gloom. “You’re home,” he stated.

            His husband waved his free hand dismissively and took a sip from a glass of brown liquor with the other. Gustav started for the bedroom but hesitated and turned instead to sit down heavily in the overstuffed chair opposite Molly. He loosened the high collar of his shirt, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He glanced up for a moment to meet his eyes, but Molly stared vacantly at the tapestry hanging on the wall to his right.

            “We need to talk,” Gustav said quietly.

            Molly closed his eyes.

            “You’ve...I feel that you’ve...that is, we have…”

            “Jus’ say it,” Molly hissed. “I’m becoming everything you feared. The old Molly. The _real_ Molly.”

            “I _don’t_ think that...”

            “Yesh you do. You told me yourself, once. I belong to everyone and no one.”

            Gustav’s shoulders fell and he trembled. “Molly, why are you doing this?”

            _“Me?_ The only thing _I’m_ doin’ is bein’ true ta myself,” he said, downing the last of the drink. He got up in a slightly awkward but fluid motion and crossed to the bar to refill his glass.

            “You’re drunk,” Gustav noted.

            “You’re _right!”_

            “Molly…”

            “Y’know, maybe I wouldna be shitfaced in the middle a tha day if you actually came out with me once in a while.” His voice softened.

            Gustav sighed heavily. He put his head in his hands and muttered through his fingers. “I had to work hard, Molly. There was so much to do, but I—”

            Molly slammed the glass down, cracking it. “Gods, Gustav, you’re so fucking boring!”

            Gustav’s head snapped up. “Well at least I’m not fucking _someone else.”_ The words escaped his mouth so quickly they took the both of them by surprise. Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

            Slack-jawed, Molly stared at his husband for a beat then scoffed lightly, turned, and walked out the door.

            Gustav watched him go. He had seen the subtle arch of his brows, the parting of his lips just before he turned, but said nothing. His temper flared with a foreign and terrible feeling that left him flushed and breathing heavily in the silence.

After a long while, Gustav stood and went to the bar. He pushed Molly’s cracked glass aside and from the cabinet withdrew a fresh one. He filled it with sherry from a cut-glass decanter Molly had given him a month or so previous. He lit the oil lamps, sat back down in his chair, and drank.

            Not being an avid drinker, the sherry went instantly to his head and Gustav was glad for the fuzzy, numbing sensation. “Well,” he said, finishing the last of a tall pour, “I can see why he does it.” Molly’s face stuck in his mind’s eye, frozen there like the afterimage one gets from looking at a bright light in a darkened room. There was hurt there on that face, just for a moment. It pained Gustav to think he had hurt him, but his heart was already in agony with the idea that Molly had strayed.

But what was that look? That wasn’t something someone who was flaunting his infidelity would show, was it? He was sorry. He had made a mistake. But if he had wanted to apologize, the opportunity came and went in an instant, and he was gone.

            Gustav wondered if he should pack up tonight or wait until the morning. Maybe Molly would come back. Maybe they could talk. Maybe they could work this out, somehow. Molly couldn’t have meant to hurt him. It couldn’t have been more than simple pleasure, and he knew how much Molly craved such things. Gustav knew he hadn’t been very good at keeping up with that, lately. If he came home, he thought, as the sherry worked its way through his blood, he’d show him how much he loved him all night long. He could fix this. It could work.

            Gustav flinched at the sound of someone knocking on the apartment door. It took him a moment to respond, but he thought better of it, sat still and listened, instead. They rarely got visitors and certainly not at dinner hour. The knock sounded again. Firm, slow, and deliberate and Gustav imagined that perhaps Molly had returned and was meekly asking to enter. He put the glass down and hastily went to the door. On throwing it open he was shocked to find not his apologetic husband, but a familiar, scarred face grinning back.

            “Gustav, it’s been a while,” he said and tipped the brim of his hat.

            Taken aback for a second, Gustav paused before replying. “Desmond Moondrop! As I live and breathe.”

            “May we come in?” Desmond asked politely. Three more unfamiliar faces loomed behind him in the shadows.

            “O-of course,” he said and opened the door wide for them. As he did so, and they took their first steps toward him, Gustav knew he’d made a terrible mistake.

 

            The last of the three strangers accompanying Desmond Moondrop closed the door behind him and positioned himself in front of it. Desmond moved into the room and scanned it quickly.

            Gustav crossed back to Molly’s bar and lifted the beautiful cut-glass decanter. “Can I get you a drink?”

            Desmond hummed. “Nice _little_ place you got here.”

            “It’s home.”

            Desmond smirked. “Home…” he hummed.

            “W-what brings you to Nicodranas?”

            “I’m just in town trying to get some business contacts back up and running.”

            “Is that so?” Gustav pulled out four more glasses and began to pour but made no move to hand them over. As he poured the last one his hands were shaking so hard that he accidentally let the liquor dribble down the outside of the glass. He thought absently that Molly would be annoyed to see it and would say something cheeky like ‘that’s alcohol abuse, that is!’

            “Yeah. But I don’t use that ridiculous name you gave me anymore, Mr. ‘ _Fletching’_. It’s Desmond Jagentoth again these days.”

            Gustav froze, eyes wide with fear. The three toughs pulled knives as the decanter smashed to the floor. Desmond’s shoes crunched through the broken glass as he stepped beside him.

            “After you destroyed the troupe I had nowhere else to go, so I went home. Turned out, while I was gone, my brother Dutcher, you remember him? He murdered our younger brother Bacha. Shortly after I arrived, Dutcher had a _little accident_ leaving me the sole heir of House Jagentoth. The fucking Marduns have been ascending recently so I’ve had my hands full getting everything up and running again. Reforming alliances, reopening trade routes, and assessing all my assets. I now own all the land, all the structures, all the _property…_ ” he stressed the last word heavily and his eyes moved up and down Gustav. He hooked a finger under the lapel of his jacket and ran it down the length of his chest, grinning with a smile full of clenched teeth.

            “Desmond…”

            “I went through all the deeds, invoices, receipts. Found one recently for a little half-elf boy.”

            Gustav balled his hands into fists and turned to face him. “Please don’t do this. This isn’t you, you’re not like them!” he pleaded, but Desmond’s eyes were as cold as stones.

            “Because we have a history,” he said quietly. “I will ask _once._ Will you come quietly?”

            Tears came to Gustav’s eyes. “Desmond, please…”

            He cocked his head to the side and looked down for a beat. “Alright. How about this?” he said, voice firm now. “You walk out of here with us like we’re old chums, or I send my boys up to the Lavish Chateau.”

            “Leave Molly out of this!” Gustav shouted and in a flash two of the ‘boys’ had him grappled.

            Desmond grasped Gustav’s long braid and wrapped it around his fist. “You will _never_ tell me what to do!” he barked and gave it a firm yank. Gustav cried out in alarm. “You want him unharmed? You will walk out of here with us like a good boy. Understood?”

            Gustav clenched his teeth. “Y-yes,” he replied, tears coursing down his face.

            Desmond relinquished his braid and nodded to his toughs that it was alright to let him go. “Yes, _what?”_

            Gustav tried, as Molly’s life was in fact depending on it, not to scream. “Yes, Master Jagentoth.” He panted and stared down at the four glasses of liquor, the bit he spilled still dripping slowly from the edge of the counter and his mind raced. Desmond turned and motioned to his boys to flank him and in the moment before they could see what he was up to, Gustav rubbed his hands together and fumbled as if it were hard for him to stand without using the bar for support. One of the men prodded him and he faltered but composed himself and followed as he was ordered to do. They walked out the front door. He climbed dumbly up into a waiting carriage and sat between two of the toughs and across from Desmond. The third took the reins and as the carriage lurched forward, Gustav’s face went slack, his eyes unfocused and his already broken heart cracked in two.

 

.x.

            More than a decade earlier, two men sat at a table in the back corner of a tavern. Each of them clutched leathern tankards and conversed loudly. A human man with his back to the room wore a large hood that protected his scarred face from view. He chuckled as he raised the drink to his lips again. “This is madness,” he said through a ragged smile.

            “It will work, Desmond!” a younger Gustav chimed, sloshing his drink as if he had forgotten he was holding it. “It will. We go back to the market tomorrow and we just go ‘hey, you. Flutist.’ Floutist? Fluter? Whatever. ‘You, flute player. You are awesome. Come with us.’”

            “You do the talking.”

            “Absolutely.”

            Desmond took another long pull from his tankard. “And who are ‘us’, exactly?”

            “Desmond and Gustav!” he replied cheerily.

            “That sounds stupid, though.”

            “Ok. What was the name of that flea circus we saw? Reedy and Fillington’s Amazing…something-something.”

            “Reedus and Feller’s Amazing Cabinet of Wonders.”

            “Aha! Desmond! We need surnames.”

            “Oh gods…”

            No, no! I’ll give you a _new_ one! How about, Desmond…” Gustav looked around the room. A painted sign advertising the local brew caught his eye. “Moondrop!”

            Desmond turned to follow his eyes and appreciated the beauty of the sign’s artistry. A silver crescent moon shape pierced the handle of a tankard with the words Moon Drop Ale inscribed below it. “Fine.” He noticed a young archer seated just below the sign with a quiver full of arrows. “You’ll be Gustav Fletching,” he said, taking the name from the bright green feathers that made up the arrows’ fletching.

            “Done!” Gustav agreed and held his tankard out to toast him.

            Desmond turned back to face him and snorted at the ridiculous grin on Gustav’s face. “Fine,” he said and touched his drink to his. “Fletching and Moondrop’s…”

            “Travelling,” Gustav added.

            “Carnival.”

            “Of Curiosities!”

            He rolled his eyes. Alright, enough!”

            Gustav laughed and Desmond did his best to hide a smile in the brim of the tankard.

 

.x.

            Only five years before the start of their joint business venture, neither of them smiled very often. On a grey autumn day in Shady Creek Run, Desmond packed his violin and some of his personal possessions and suited up for travel. He had just turned twenty-eight years old and the previous day he’d seen his father, Lord Nolan Jagentoth, laid to rest. He buckled the pockets of his large pack tightly and inspected it one last time then walked to the door and snapped his fingers.

            Silently, a half-elf man with an ash-brown braid of hair down his back stepped into his wake and hefted the heavy pack onto his back. He wore a long coat and heavy boots, ready to travel, as well as a thick iron collar around his neck. Stamped into the metal next to the clasp was a round mark with a triangle and a single rune in its center—the crest of House Jagentoth. He followed Desmond a few paces behind as he descended the grand stairs to the foyer. Two young men were waiting for him. The older leaned against the banister and the younger leaned against the doorframe. They both watched Desmond as he proceeded and the older grasped his upper arm as he passed him on the stairs. “You truly intend to never return?” he asked.

            “That is correct, Dutcher,” Desmond said through clenched teeth.

            “Good riddance,” the younger chimed.

            “And to you, Bacha,” he replied, shook out of Dutcher’s grip and they continued out of the foyer and through the front door. Desmond’s heart pounded in his chest. He had been sure of a confrontation and did not let his guard down until they were well distant of the house.

 

            They walked down the road to the south for a mile or more before Desmond went off the trail and fell to his hands and knees on the ground. Desmond heaved into the grass as a panic attack gripped him and his servant went into action. He pulled a small bottle from the pack, knelt beside him, uncorked it and gently urged his master to drink. The liquor and the hand rubbing his back and soft words of encouragement took the edge off the attack and soon he had recovered.

            The slave recorked the bottle and replaced it in the pack.

            “Thank you,” Desmond whispered.

            “Forgive me, Master?” he replied, not understanding the words just spoken to him.

            “I said, thank you, Gustav. I am grateful for your help.”

            “For...give me?” he said again, tensing up.

            “No. The answer is ‘you’re welcome.’”

            “Yes, Master.”

            Desmond sighed, rummaged in the pack and withdrew a key from one of the pockets. He motioned for Gustav to come closer and put the key in the collar’s lock. Desmond opened and lifted the heavy, iron ring off of his neck and Gustav stared at it with wide eyes.

            “You are a slave no longer. You are simply my servant. Stay by my side, please, Gustav, but I am no longer your master. Call me ‘Desmond’.”

            A faint look of panic and confusion came over Gustav’s face, but he bowed and replied “Yes...Desmond.”

 

.x.

            In Desmond Jagentoth’s life, there had been no more loyal slave and no more dedicated comrade than Gustav.

            When Desmond was only ten years old, his brothers tied him to a tree and left him to be mauled terribly by direbeasts. He would have hated them more for what they had done to him if it hadn’t saved him from his lord and father’s eye. His face was so disfigured that no one dared to look at him, let alone abuse him. Gustav, however, was beautiful, and from the moment he entered the house at eleven years of age, he had been Lord Jagentoth’s ‘boy’. His elven features gave him strong cheekbones, slender limbs, and a youthful appearance well into his teen years. But eventually he reached his expiration and a week after Desmond was attacked, Lord Jagentoth gave Gustav to his middle son and replaced him with a new, younger boy.

            Through agonizing months of recovery, Gustav rarely left Desmond’s side. He would sit by him, change his bandages, help him eat, dress, and bathe, and read him fairy stories until he’d fallen asleep every night. Once he’d recovered, Desmond picked up the violin and strived to master the instrument. Even though he never smiled or expressed delight, Gustav seemed to relax a little when Desmond played for him. Over the next two decades, Desmond would rarely be without him, sequestered as he was in his rooms upstairs in the back of the manor house. He never felt the need to raise a hand to his complicit and perfect slave, but he knew very well that his father was a brutal master and his cast-offs were always the most broken of the house’s servants. It took almost five years after they left House Jagentoth for Desmond to retrain the older man to be a person again through constant reminders and reprimands, but his diligence paid off.

 

.x.

            It wasn’t often that the two men argued. Usually, Gustav would defer to Desmond. Whether that was due to a residual habit due to their shared past, or because he genuinely thought Desmond knew better was unclear for many years, until a lavender-skinned tiefling wandered into their camp from the woods. He was bedraggled, covered in dirt, and barefoot. He was mute and appeared to have suffered some horrible abuse or other. They could not have guessed what he would tell them when his senses returned, that he had crawled from the ground in which he’d been buried.

            Desmond did not care for him from the start. To him, this man was a burden. He had nothing to contribute and put undue stress on their resources and time, and potentially, their safety. But he was vastly outnumbered. Everyone in the troupe loved this poor, unfortunate soul. They ministered to him, slept with him held close to keep him warm, and nursed him back to health. Gustav seemed especially taken with him and Desmond noticed. One day while they were traveling the Menagerie Coast, he started to speak, but could mutter only the word ‘empty’, and it frightened a young performer. Gustav thought on his feet and told the young boy that he was saying ‘M.T.’ and that those were his initials which stood for (he looked up at the sky and saw a sea bird winging) Mollymauk (he looked down to the mug clutched in his hands) Tealeaf. Once named, he was officially theirs and Desmond huffed and puffed, but could do nothing about it.

            A year or more later, he put his foot down once again when Gustav wanted to bring in a sweet, young dwarven girl singer and her huge, mysterious and deformed companion. He knew there was something not right about this man. Something perhaps evil. But the girl was so charming that once again the troupe rallied behind Gustav and accepted them both.

            When it all fell apart one horrible night in Trostenwald and this ‘man’ murdered a half-dozen people, it was all over for The Fletching & Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities. Kylre was dead, Mona and Yuli disappeared, Toya, Orna, and Bosun left together, Mollymauk and Yasha followed the group that would become the Mighty Nein, and Gustav took the blame and the penalty of hard labor to make up a fine of over twenty-six-hundred gold.

All but the missing halfling sisters and the late ‘devil-toad’ gathered at a tavern for one last drink before parting. Desmond Moondrop said little save that he wasn’t sure what he would do from here, but he would go alone. Gustav tried to keep in good spirits for the sake of everyone else, but his heart ached with guilt. He was about to lose everything—his collected family, his happiness—and couldn’t really see a light at the end of the tunnel. He’d go to prison, and perhaps, he thought darkly, the labor would be too much, perhaps it would kill him. That would be fine. He deserved it for what he’d done.

            He said goodnight and goodbye to everyone and succeeded in keeping the smile on his face until he’d left the tavern, but as soon as he knew he was alone, his face fell. He walked toward the prison as if being pulled by a heavy chain.

            “Gustav,” Desmond called from the shadows between buildings.

            “Desmond…” He stopped and turned to face him but didn’t approach.

            “Running off to jail, are you?”

            “Running…?”

            “I know what you’re doing. You can’t face me, can you?”

            “Desmond, I—” Gustav searched for the right words. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’ll start with this. I will pay my debt to this town, first.”

            “And then?”

            “I’ll make it up to you.”

            “How? Start a new carnival? Why? So you can fuck it up again? So you can destroy my life again?!” Gustav took a step back as Desmond stepped out of the alleyway, shoulders hunched, fists clenched in anger. “I have nothing left. You ruined everything. I trusted you!”

            “I’m sorry, Desmond! Please don’t—”

            “No,” he hissed, turned around and walked away. “I’m done with you. I never want to see you again.”

            Tears coursed down Gustav’s face as he stood there for several minutes. He watched his friend and former master pass under the few oil lamps that lined the street as he walked out of town. When he could no longer see him, Gustav continued on his way to the prison where he would languish for almost three months before being bailed out by the Mighty Nein.

 

            Their newest member, a pink-haired firbolg man, had looked into his eyes and through his soul. “You’re a man who is afraid of what you owe,” he said. “I understand. That’s okay. It’ll feel so much better when you’re finally free from this belief.”

            Gustav had managed not to gasp aloud and put on his best showman’s smile, but Caduceus’ words hit home hard.

            “This is my debt to pay.” Gustav glared at him from behind the bars as he realized that these good, kind people would not be swayed. “This is _my_ responsibility.”

            He shook his head, floppy ears flapping softly. “This is _not_ your debt. Your debt lies elsewhere. I know these things.”

            Gustav paled. He knew exactly where ‘elsewhere’ was, and once he was released, he did his best to put on a good show, marching away with a spring in his step until he was out of sight, then let his shoulders droop and marched north.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moliggan Brightside sings “Yesterday” by the Beatles.  
> This chapter includes vomiting and alcohol abuse.

 

             In the wee hours of the morning the staff of the Lavish Chateau were winding down for the night, cleaning up after the patrons and getting things neat and tidy for another day before calling it quits. A nervous-looking human man with slicked back hair swept through the bar area and found the minotaur bouncer flipping chairs up for the cleaning crew. “Uh, Blude, I can’t get him to listen to me.”

            Blude exhaled loudly through his nose, ruffling the young man’s shirt. “Gods dammit,” he grumbled. “Fine.” He handed a chair to him and the small man strained a bit under its weight as Blude stomped off into the club.

 

            All the patrons had long gone home, save one.

            “Fuckin’ Molly,” he grumbled.

            Moliggan Brightside was slumped over a table, face down and clutching a tall, empty bottle in one hand. There was a dinner knife loosely held in his other hand and the remnants of a meal half eaten scattered around him. Blude took a fistful of the back of his jacket and made to heft the drunk to his feet.

            If the minotaur’s reflexes had been worse, he would not have been able to avoid what happened next. In a flash, Molly gripped the knife and as he popped up he attempted to attack whoever it was who had grabbed him with the small, serrated blade (designed for cutting a steak, not an adversary, but still sharp).

            “Whoa!” Blude shouted and easily disarmed him. “What the fuck, Molly!”

            Molly swooned and looked up at the enormous, dark, furry form that loomed over him. “Oh…” he muttered and was probably going to apologize but something about the way he opened his mouth and no words came out was terrifyingly familiar to the bouncer.

            “Not in here you don’t!” he shouted, scooped him up and charged out the back with him. Blude set him down only a little roughly on all fours and stepped back as Molly vomited onto the ground behind the Chateau.

            Molly tried to get to his feet, but slipped and nearly landed in the pile of sick before him.

            “This is above my fuckin’ pay grade,” Blude grumbled, helped him up and opened the door back into the building. “Come on, you. If I letcha go like this Marion’ll kill me.”

.x.

            Molly sat on a stool at the bar and Blude poured him a glass of water. After he’d had enough of it that Blude was satisfied he wasn’t going to throw up again he leaned in close and stared Molly down. “You attacked me,” he whispered, gruffly.

            “Did I?”

            “You did,” he said slowly.

            “Ya don’t say?”

            “I can’t tell if you’re bullshittin’ me or not, Brightside, but you better not be. Why’dja do that?”

            Molly focused on the ring in the bouncer’s nose and cleared his sore throat. “I honestly do not know _why_ I did that.” His words came out staccato, pointed and deliberate. “My guess? Ya startled me,” he slurred. “Did you know that you are one imtiman...itimimim...you’re a little scary?”

            “Why are you so hammered all by your lonesome? Cause Marion was busy tonight? You got all them other friends a yours, don’tcha?”

            Molly licked his teeth and waved his hand as if to discount that statement. “I have fucked up, Blude. Really, _really_ fucked up this time.”

            “Gustav kick you out?”

            “Yyyyep.” Close enough.

            “I don’t blame him. You're a godsdammed shitshow and he's a good man you got. Y’oughtta be ashamed a yerself.”

            “Thank you for that, Blude. You, sir are an expert trash removal... expert,” he drawled, slid off the stool, and tottered out the door.

 

.x.

            Molly woke the following day on the little divan in the front room of the apartment and lay very still. His head throbbed and he felt like he would break with every movement. He could not recall how he made it back, but he did remember throwing up in an alley and Blude trying his best to help him in his own way.

            About an hour later he slowly and carefully rose from the divan and relocated to the bedroom. The sun was low in the sky by the time the hangover had passed. Molly stood in the doorway and listened carefully. “Gustav?” he asked the silence then slumped his shoulders. He thought he should find something to eat and trudged around the corner. He knew there was a loaf of bread and some cured sausage tucked away and if he was lucky a couple pieces of fruit that wouldn’t have turned too badly yet.

            The scant light glinting off something on the floor near the bar caught his eye and stopped him short. The beautiful cut-glass decanter he had gotten as a present for Gustav was smashed to pieces and someone had tracked glass and liquor away from the bar and toward the door. Molly stepped carefully toward the little cabinet that served to hold up his prodigious collection of intoxicants. Four glass tumblers sat crammed together, half-full, presumably of the sherry from the decanter—the one thing besides red wine that Gustav liked to drink. The stuff was also spilled around them and had ruined the finish. He struggled to remember the night before, and though his memory was incomplete he was positive he would have remembered breaking something so precious to him. The whole scene screamed _‘something is not right’_ and Molly broke out in a cold sweat. He shook his head. “No, he’s just messing with you,” he whispered. “Trying to make you think something terrible happened.” He turned around slowly in place taking in the rest of the room. The only other thing out of place was another tumbler, this one mostly empty, sitting on the little table by the divan. Molly gave it a sniff and noted it contained the same sherry that was spilled. “He got shitfaced just like you did and he poured it all out into those glasses then smashed the decanter to spite you.” He couldn’t remember if Gustav had been home when he dragged himself back in the door. He couldn’t remember him leaving while he slept on the divan. As a nauseating doubt nagged at him he decided to head to the shop to get some answers. Molly hastily cleaned himself up a little then went to head out. His eyes lighted on the bar once more and he did a double-take as he noticed something else out of place.

            Molly stepped carefully around the mess on the floor and reached out with a trembling hand for the platinum and tarnished silver ring, one size smaller than his own, tucked just behind one of the bottles. He slipped it on his pinky and suppressed a panicked shriek before bolting from the house.

.x.

            Gustav hadn’t shown up for work that morning. Ema had hoped he and Molly made up and were sleeping in. Her brows arched as she asked him when was the last time he saw him, but before she had finished, Molly ran into the street and flagged down a Zolezzo who took him to the nearest station to report Gustav missing.

            Once they heard that the two men had had a fight the night before they tried to placate Molly with assurances, but it was clear the authorities were convinced that his disappearance was romantically motivated. They told him they would let him know if they heard anything.

 

            Molly trudged back to the shop in a daze. He told Ema what they police had told him and answered her questions with vague answers before she became frustrated and shouted at him to look her in the eye and tell her what happened.

            He looked down on his tiny grandmother with glistening eyes and a lost expression. “I broke his heart,” he said. “This is all my fault. Whatever happened to him, I deserve it.” He turned and left Ema standing dumbfounded and weeping.

            He didn’t remember getting home. He grabbed a bottle from the bar on his way to the bedroom and didn’t leave the building for the next week.

 

.x.

            On the morning of the eighth day, a young woman with a satchel stuff full of papers and small packages knocked on the door of the house. After a few moments she knocked again more forcefully and looked nervously from the door to an envelope she held in her hand. She had just started to knock for a third time when the door swung open slowly revealing a shirtless, heavily scarred and tattooed tiefling who glared at her through red eyes rimmed with sleeplessness and smudged makeup. “What?” he asked.

            “M-Moliggan Brightside?” she asked, voice wavering.

            “What?” he repeated.

            “A message for y—”

            He snatched it and slammed the door in her face. Molly tore the note open and tried to read it as fast as he could, but his illiteracy blocked all but the words ‘Molly’, ‘Love’, and ‘Marion’—enough to get the idea that it had nothing to do with Gustav. His chest heaved and he cursed heavily in Infernal. A knock sounded again and he slowly opened the door to give the courier a curious look.

            “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been asked to take your reply with me.”

            “My reply…sure. My eyes’re kinda fucked up,” he mumbled and shoved the note at her. “Wha’s it say?”

            She squinted at it as he held it out for her to read. “Molly, I’m worried about you. Please send word you are alright. Love, Marion.”

            Molly sighed dramatically. “Ya hear that? The Ruby of the Sea wantsa know if’m ok,” he slurred and dragged a clawed hand suggestively across his chest. “You may tell my beloved Marion,” he said slowly, trying to enunciate the best he could, “that I’ll pay her a visit, post haste.” He flicked his forked tongue at her and the poor girl turned and fled. Molly laughed darkly, retreated inside and leaned against the door.

            “Fuck.”

 

.x.

            When Marion Lavorre heard the four knocks on her door (Molly’s knock: one two-three four) she didn’t wait for her handmaid to get it. She bounded across the room in a few graceful strides and whipped the door open. “Molly!” she cried and the pleased look shifted to one of worry. “Oh, you look terrible!”

            “Well, y’re the one wanted ta see me,” he mumbled with a sheepish look and let her pull him into the room. She seated him and fussed over him, peppering him with questions.

            He reached out for a half-full bottle of wine on an end-table and she stopped his hand. “I can smell you from here, darling,” she admonished. “Please don’t.”

            “Mer, i’s the only thing keeping me from fallin’ apart.”

            Marion stared at him intensely. “Blude told me Gustav kicked you out.”

            “Incorrect. We had a terrible fight,” he said, slurring a little as he brushed her delicate hand aside and uncorked the bottle. “And then he vanished without a trace.”

            Marion gasped and yanked the bottle from his hands. “You can’t be serious!”

            “As a heart attack. Didn’t take anything with him. No money missing, no clothes packed. Never reported fer work las’ Wednesday morning. Haven’t seen ‘m since.”

            “That’s terrible!”  
            “And _so’m I_. Please may I have that?” he asked and held out his hand for the bottle.

            “No. And no you are not. What in the world happened?”

            Molly gave up trying to get her to give him the wine and slumped back in his chair. He told her everything that happened including the night of the party and the subsequent fight. “I’m not entirely sure he meant that I was screwin’ someone else or if he was usin’ ‘fucking’ in the usual way ta mean ‘very’ or ‘seriously’ in reference ta my becoming _literally_ someone else, not that it really matters, because Gustav never, ever swears, an’ it was like havin’ my face peeled off ta hear it.”

            “Oh, Molly, I’m sorry.”

            “And I’m gettin’ sober sittin’ here and the dread’s startin’ ta creep back in an’m just so fuckin’ miserable, Mer.” At last, Molly cracked. His face contorted, lower lip trembling, brows pinched tightly together and he sobbed. “I’m scared. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive and I feel like I wanna curl up and die!”

            Marion rushed forward and put her arms around him. “No, please don’t say that! He was hurt and you both said hurtful things, but you have a _strong_ love. You must be able to find the strength to endure in that.”

            “But I ruined it…”

            She shook her head. “Love may not always be a raging fire, but it never dies. That’s what is important—what’s real. Fame, adoration, pleasure—these things are fleeting. They wilt and fade. They decay. Love does not,” Marion said with a sad, closed-eye smile. “Love stays. I hold love in my heart always and it shines for me through any darkness.”

            Coming from a prostitute who never left the bordello she was tied to, this was quite the statement, indeed. He let it sink in under the fading layer of intoxication, nodded, and hugged her back.

            “I want you to do some things for me,” she said, took his hands in hers and leaned back to look into his eyes. “One, stop drinking. Right now. Two, come see me for lunch every day. No excuses. I will help you. Do this for me?”

            “I’ll try.”

            “You’ll _do,_ ” she insisted in Infernal and squeezed his hands. “And I think I may be able to relay a message to Gustav through my friend who knows magic.”

            Molly perked up at this. “You can?”

            “I cannot guarantee it, but I will ask her when she calls out to me.”

            Molly thanked her profusely and promised to do his best. She kissed his forehead and told him to go see an apothecary as she knew that coming down off an eight-day drunk would hurt. She would let him know the moment she knew anything and would see him tomorrow at noon.

            As he left the venue, Molly passed by its huge, well-stocked bars and bit the inside of his cheek, but thought of Marion’s pleading eyes and her love gave him the strength to walk on by, out into the sunshine.

 

.x.

            The apothecary they frequented was a few doors down from Fletching & Fletching in the Open Quay and Molly stood in front of it, squinting down the lane at the sign with his husband’s name on it. Though he was starting to shake and felt like he would throw up at any moment, he hugged himself and made up his mind. “It already hurts like hell. What’s more pain at this point?” he asked and walked slowly to the shop.

 

            Emerald Fletching was alone. She looked up from some hand-work she was doing as the bell rang and froze, needle in mid-stitch. “Molly.”

            “Ema.” A pair of children ran by outside, shouting about some amusement or another and he flinched. He looked down and away from her penetrating gaze. “I have maybe some good news, kind of. Maybe not. Marion has a friend who does magic. They might be able get a message to Gustav, but maybe not. I’m not going to get my hopes up and you shouldn’t either, really, but it’s better than nothing.”

            “Where have you been?” she asked—slowly, quietly, angrily.

            Molly flinched again. “H-home.”

            “You didn’t answer the door.”

            “I…” The words got stuck in his throat; telling her that he didn’t hear her knock felt more excuse than explanation and he choked them down. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

            “Sir Epwint has been pushing the Zolezzo to act. They found a witness.”

            Molly’s head shot up and he stared at her in disbelief. “A witness…?”

            “Gustav got in a carriage in front of your house on Tuesday night last week with four unidentified men.”

            The room went away. He saw the four glasses of liquor on the bar in his mind’s eye and he dropped to his knees. The implications this had on the handful of theories he’d tried so hard not to dwell on for the last week quickly sickeningly recalculated in his head and he whimpered. “He didn’t wander out drunk and fall off a pier…” he breathed and hugged himself tighter. “He was...taken?”

            Ema slipped off her stool and slowly approached the trembling tiefling. “Molly. Show me your hands.”

            He lifted his chin and gave her a confused look.

            “Show me,” she insisted, face dark and stern.

            “I’m sorry…” he repeated and unwrapped his arms from around himself and presented his hands for her inspection. The only rings that adorned them were the two he’d had made for his marriage. He could not stop them from shaking. “I didn’t hear you knock. I’ve been drunk ever since—”

            “You foolish boy!” Emerald barked. “When will you learn?! When you hurt you tell the people who love you! That is what we are for!” She grasped his hands in her tiny ones and pulled him to her, tucking his horned head under her chin and clutched him tightly. His whole body spasmed as he broke down and bawled loudly. “I love you, Molly, and I came looking for you and I couldn’t reach you and you were not there for me, either. You are my family, you fool boy,” she chastised him and wept. “I need you just as much as you need me.”

            He begged her forgiveness through stuttering sobs and once he’d calmed, Ema released him, closed the shop, and set about caring for her grandson. “I’ll go get your medicine. You’ll stay here, tonight and I’ll straighten you out.” He opened his mouth and she cut him off before he could utter a syllable. “Ah-ah! No buts.”

            Molly smiled kindly on the old woman, wiping his face with a handkerchief she gave him. “I was just going to say, ‘yes, Yiayia’.”

 

.x.

            Nine days later while Marion Lavorre dressed that morning her daughter’s voice echoed in her head, checking in as she did occasionally with her whereabouts and news.

 

_Hello Moma, we’re in Zadash. Not much going on. It’s cold. I want to come see you but not sure when we can. Love you!_

            Marion took a deep breath and read from a note she’d prepared for the occasion.

 

_Dear Friend’s husband missing two weeks ago. Gustav Fletching. Tall, half-elf, ashy brown hair, brown eyes. Tailor. Please send him message. Ask if safe._

.x.

            Gustav could not suppress a shuddering breath as Jester’s voice echoed in his head. Desmond cracked an eye open and watched him as he bent at the waist, putting his head between his knees. _“Gustav, we heard you are missing. If you need it, we’ll save you. Where are you? If not safe, cough twice. Twenty five word limit reply.”_

            He tried to calm his breathing and whisper into his hands as quietly as he could. “En route to Shady Creek... Not safe... Please help...”

            The rattling of the carriage covered the actual words, but wasn’t enough to hide his whispering. He cried out as his braid was viciously pulled, causing him to lurch toward Desmond.

            “A little late for prayers, don’t you think? Shut your mouth and sit up straight.”

            “Forgive me, Master Jagentoth!” Gustav cried and was released. He sat back against the seat and squeezed his eyes shut, bemoaning the loss of thirteen more words he could have added to the reply. He would have liked to have asked who his ethereal would-be saviors were. The message had come to him as if in a dream and the reality of it and any hope it might have brought him slipped further away with every mile he drew closer to House Jagentoth.

 

.x.

            Jester blinked and her hand flew up to her mouth as his words reached her. She made a small, startled squeak as he cried out and waited a few moments for more, but the spell faded in silence broken only by his pained breathing.

            “Oh no, you guys, it’s real bad. He’s alive, but he’s being taken to _Shady Creek.”_

            “Shady Creek?!” Beau shouted. “That fuckin’ place…”

            “And does the name ‘Jagentoth’ mean anything to anyone?!”

            Caleb swallowed and his brows came together. “It is the name of the family that controlled the Iron Shepherds.”

            Jester trembled and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh shit, that’s not good. It sounded like someone heard him maybe and hit him maybe and he said _‘Forgive me, Master Jagentoth.’_ He’s going to _that place_? This is really, really bad.” She hugged herself.

            Fjord wrapped an arm around her. “It’s ok, Jes.”

            “It’s really not, though!”

            Caduceus tilted his head to the side. “But we cleaned them out. There shouldn’t be any more Iron Shepherds.”

            “Yeah, we slaughtered them!” Nott exclaimed and threw her hands in the air. “It was glorious.”

            “Unless the Jagentoths got new ones,” Beau added.

            Nott let her hands fall to her side. “Well, fuck.”

            “I’m just saying, maybe the demand for slaves is still there. And they’ve already got Gustav calling them ‘master’. That poor noodle-armed circus boy won’t last long if that’s the case.”

            “Now,” Fjord rubbed Jester’s back. “We don’t know that. Let’s stay positive, here. We know he’s alive, we know where he’s goin’, and we know who’s got him.”

            Caleb nodded. “Ja, this is very useful information. Und we have an ally there in Miss Mardun. Perhaps we may get some assistance from her.”

            “See? It’s ok, Jester. Plus, we’re a shitton stronger than we were back then and so far we got the drop on these motherfuckers.”

            She sniffed and nodded. “They hurt Gustav who is a sweet, squishy, noodle-boy. It would make me feel a _lot_ better if we stomped them good.”

            Caduceus rubbed his hands together absently. “How about you, Yasha? This is making you _real_ anxious.”

            “It is, yes,” she agreed and folded her arms. “I would like to crush them.”

            Nott nodded. “Me, too. When did they leave Nicodranas?”

            “I’ll ask Moma.”

            “Before you do, let’s talk logistics, get all our ducks lined up,” Fjord advised. “We leave Zadash tonight we can be there in a couple weeks, right?”

            Beau cracked her neck. “Might be too late.”

            “Thank you, Miss Sunshine.”

            “What? I’m being realistic. We might not catch them.”

            Caleb shook his head. “If we were to arrive before they do, we might also pass them along the route and alert them to our presence.”

            “Not if we ride at night!” Nott grinned. “I say we get horses, all of us, and ride like the wind, all night! We can camp in your bubble during the day, Caleb. They’ll never see us that way.”

            Beau rubbed her chin. “That’s a pretty dope plan, Nott. I like it.”

            Caleb nodded. “If one of you keeps a little light, Caduceus and I may follow that.”

            The Mighty Nein met each other’s eyes and nodded.

            Fjord slapped his knee. “Well shit, let’s go rescue us a noodle-boy!”

 

            Jester Lavorre closed her eyes and cast the last of the spells she could manage for the day, sending a message back to her mother.

 

_We know him! Messaged. Received his reply. He is alive. We know where he is going. We will rescue him. Two or three week journey._

_What wonderful news! Please be safe, my little Sapphire. If there’s any more news, please let me know. I will relay it. I love you._

 

.x.

            Molly hadn’t left his apartment very often after Marion demanded he get cleaned up as he struggled with detoxing, taking the medicinal tea that Emerald help him get at the apothecary and sweating out the remaining poison from his system. He hadn’t felt well enough to visit the park, but had called on Lily and Poppy and learned more about the night at the club. It was a relief to learn he’d not been in his right mind, but getting confirmation that Gustav had seen him with Sinamon was a tough blow. Molly gave his thanks to his friends for helping him, went home and crawled into bed.

 

On the morning of the seventeenth day of Gustav’s disappearance, he awoke early, and even though he was tired and could have lounged for several more hours, the bed felt cold and empty. His heart ached, but the thin wisp of hope that Marion gave him helped tamp down the panic. He got up, made his tea, and put a chair in the open doorway as he and Gustav had done together in happier times. He watched people and seagulls and listened to the city as it geared up for another day. When the messenger approached the door, she was surprised to see the demure tiefling with the ponytail wearing a long, flowing, pink day-dress calmly sipping tea and wondered if she had the right house. “Message for Moliggan Brightside?” she said, reading the note as she had been instructed to do. “Good news, come see me. Marion.”

 

.x.

            “He’s alive,” Molly breathed. He sat on a plush chair in Marion Lavorre’s parlour, elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists, and palms pressed to his forehead between the base of his horns. His tears fell freely onto his lap. She knelt in front of him and put her slender hands on his arms, gently coaxing him into a hug. Molly slumped against her and sniffled into her hair for several moments as she pet him. When he pulled back, she took her own seat and held his hand over the lunch table over which they had spent countless hours sharing meals and playing every card game they could get their hands on. Molly heaved a huge sigh of relief. He smiled through his tears at his friend. “Thank you so much!” he said.

            “You shouldn’t thank me,” she said, pouring him a cup of tea. “You should thank Jester. She said that she knows him as well, can you believe it?”

            “Who’s Jester?”

            Marion finished pouring her own cup and quickly brought it to her lips. “My _friend_ ,” she said, and raised a brow at the man across from her. “Actually, can you keep a secret?”

            “I would do _anything_ for you,” he replied as he wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.

            The Ruby of the Sea smiled softly. “She’s not only my friend, she’s my daughter.”

            A slow, surprised grin spread across Molly’s face. “You are not old enough to have a daughter!”

            She laughed, appreciatively. “I was very young, but I am.”

            Molly took a sip of the fragrant, flowery tea and shook his head. “That’s amazing. What does she look like?”

            “She is blue in coloring and cute as a button.”

            “How old is she?”

            “She will be twenty, soon. She had to leave me quite suddenly more than a year ago. She was...mischievous...and got herself in some trouble with powerful people here, but I do get to see her from time to time, and she messages me as you know.”

            “A beautiful little girl out in the world by herself, oh Mer, it must have killed you.”

            She nodded, brows knitted together for a moment. “I worry, as mothers do, but not so much. She found strong friends, and she is no slouch herself. They protect each other.”

            Molly raised the glass to take another sip and stopped. “A blue tiefling girl who knows Gustav…” he whispered and leaned forward. “Uh, Marion. What kind of people are her friends, exactly?”

            She smiled and went on to describe the half-orc called Fjord, a few human-looking folks called Beau, Yasha, and Caleb, a firbolg called Caduceus, and a little goblin girl called Nott. With that last description Molly’s jaw hung open and he laughed, confusing his friend.

It was only fair, after she had told him her secret, that he share his, and so Molly told her about his past life and his association with the people called The Mighty Nein, how he had died at least twice and mysteriously come back to life. Marion was pensive for a while after the revelation, deeply moved to hear that he’d lost his life. She stared at his scars, especially the large one partially hidden by the low-cut neck of his sun dress. She reached a hand out and he let her gingerly tug the fabric down. “I don’t know how I got it, but we figure it’s what did me in,” he said.

            “Oh, Molly. I am so sorry.” She leaned back and looked piteously on him.

            He sipped the last of his tea. “Please, don’t be. I’m alive. Gustav is alive. The Mighty Nein will rescue him and I will get to apologize to him. I get yet another chance to do better. I’m one lucky bastard!”

            “If Jester messages again, shall I tell her—?”

            “Please don’t,” he cut her off. “I didn’t want them to know I was alive because I don’t remember them. It would be too cruel. But now, they’re going to bring Gustav back to me. I’ll get to meet them and make friends from scratch.”

            Marion smiled. “Alright. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

.x.

            The air was pleasant and even a little cool with the spring sea breeze not yet in the throws of summer’s humidity as Molly walked slowly down the sloping streets to the waterfront. His thin, leather sandals slapped against the cobblestones in a languid rhythm he could feel building in his soul. He swung his saz in its case to this rhythm and hummed lightly. He wore a jacket of deep emerald green dupioni silk that shimmered with mauve accents as the light caught the warp. Fine gold thread embroidery laced the cuffs and opening of the jacket and the back was adorned with a fan of peacock feathers, joined at the base with a sun and moon motif. A pair of women stopped him and had to ask where he got such a stunning piece.

            “My husband made it for me,” Molly said with a soft smile and directed them to Fletching & Fletching. He beamed with pride and strode on.

            He pondered time. How it seemed to stretch while waiting, how it seemed to race when all you want to do is hold it close. Yesterday had been a good day—the first for many days, even weeks. Gustav was alive. Marion’s friends would find him and bring him home, hopefully. Molly didn’t want to place all of his hope so high. What if he were to be killed before he was rescued? That doubt nagged at him, preventing him from being entirely at ease.

            Yesterday he learned a lot of things. Marion’s ‘friend’ was her secret daughter who was one of the people he had traveled with—the legendary Mighty Nein that Gustav had told him so much about. The people who fought at his side and buried him high on the Glory Run Road nearly a year before. The ones who left him a kind note that he treasured more than anything else he owned.

Molly pondered the day before, and the day before that, and how much had changed, but a cloak of guilt and sadness still hung over his shoulders. A tune found its way into his head and he remembered a song Leo had taught him. He found his way to the park, to his favorite rock, put his little paper hat out and started to reconstruct the tune as best he could. After a few hours of playing it over and over again and muttering the lyrics he was sure he had it down.

            Moliggan Brightside began to sing.

_“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly._

_“Why he had to go, I don't know, he wouldn't say. I said something wrong now I long for yesterday._

_“Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday...”_

            As Molly played, eyes closed, thinking only of Gustav, of wanting to protect him, to make amends, to go back to how they had been before everything fell apart, a crowd gathered. As he sang, their hearts swelled. When he had finished, he breathed a sigh, looked up, and was astonished to see roughly three dozen people standing in silence, some staring, some with heads bowed, all softly sobbing. They practically emptied their pockets into his paper hat. Some approached him and quietly thanked him. Others wandered away, rubbing their eyes, hugging themselves. Molly shuddered and sat there, hugging his instrument and wondering what happened for a long while afterwards.

 

.x.

            As Molly played, Gustav dreamed.

Before him stood the house on the hill surrounded by deep, dark forest. He scrambled in a filthy pit just before it, dredging up mud with his bare hands and slapping it together to form a barricade between himself and his doom. Tears poured down his face and his hands were bloody and raw, but he pushed himself to work as quickly as he could. The wall was only a few feet high, and seemed to sink further into the muck with each addition.

 _“Yesterday...”_ his husband’s voice lilted into the scene, velvety and soft, and suddenly he was there beside him. Molly placed a brick on top of the mud wall with one hand and troweled grout on top of it with the other. As he sang, he laid bricks and Gustav found when he turned back to his task that his hands held bricks as well. They worked together as Molly sang _“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”_

            By the time he’d finished his song, the job was complete—not just a wall, but a dome, strong and beautifully crafted, filled with light and warmth. Molly kissed his forehead, smiled sweetly and his image dispersed like smoke, leaving a faint trace of his perfume in his wake. Gustav curled up in the center of the dome and hugged himself.

            When he woke, Gustav looked out at a muted world. His usually clear, soft brown eyes had turned grey. The skin on his face felt tight with dried tears, but he couldn’t imagine why.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains NON-CON.

 

             The Mighty Nein rode all night and rested during the day under Caleb’s protective dome. Only one day from their destination, a carriage rumbled past on the road as they slept. It arrived in Shady Creek Run hours before the rescuers on horseback rode into town.

Unsure where the Jagentoth house was, a decision was made to go pay Ophelia Mardun a visit and get intel, first. Most of the party agreed this was the best course of action; the scars of their last encounter with people associated with them still fresh even more than a year later. Caduceus Clay was not as sure. He hummed a low thoughtful growl that got Fjord’s attention.

            “No good?” he asked, a little annoyance in his voice.

            “Just got a feeling our timing is off. I think he’s already here. They’ve got him.”

Jester cursed under her breath.

            “Maybe,” Fjord said calmly. “But we don’t know where they are, and if these assholes are as evil as the slavers they hired, we gotta be prepared.”

            Beau put her hand on Caduceus’ shoulder. “I hear ya, Cad, but Fjord’s right. Even if we could get there sooner, we’d maybe put Gustav at risk if we’re not even a little prepared.”

            “That’s wise,” he agreed. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

            She patted his shoulder, urged her mount forward and they pounded off toward the Mardun estate.

.x.

            Fjord and Caleb disguised themselves as a pair of nondescript but wealthy-looking humans before they approached the well-guarded mansion house and asked if the Mighty Nein could speak with Miss Mardun. After a customary investigation they were permitted entrance and found Ophelia lounging in a salon on a black velvet divan. The beautiful, grey-skinned tiefling woman lowered the book she was reading and raised a brow. “You may drop the disguises, gentlemen. What brings you to my humble abode?”

            They revealed themselves and bowed their heads respectfully. Caleb spoke first. “We are on a rescue mission. A friend of ours has been taken by the Jagentoths.”

            She closed the book emphatically. “Oh?”

            “Ah, yes Ma’am,” Fjord continued. “We know they’re your _competition…_ ”

            “You may say _‘dire enemy’_ ,” she asserted. “That is appropriate.”

            “Dire enemy it is. We’d like your blessing and perhaps any information you might have about their estate, compound, mansion, whatever you wanna call it, so we can get in there and, uh, do what we gotta do to get our friend out in one piece.”

            Ophelia grinned softly. “And in return?”

            Caleb cleared his throat. “We will be entirely discrete. No connections to you will be found when the authorities investigate the, eh, scene.”

            “What my esteemed colleague is trying to say, Miss Mardun is we’d like to kill ‘em all and if you can give us a leg up with some info, that’d be just swell.”

            She took a moment to reply. “This friend of yours must be very important to you.”

            “That,” Caleb agreed, frowning and clenching his fists. “And we hate these asshole people. They trade in slaves. If you will recall, their Iron Shepherds killed one of our own, last year. They took three others which we later freed when we destroyed them. It would seem this family is the root of this evil, and they have trespassed against us for the last time.”

            Ophelia clasped her hands together. “Listen well, Gentlemen. Here is everything I know.”

 

.x.

            A fire crackled in the hearth of the study on the first floor of House Jagentoth, a sprawling, two-story manor house made up of many brick and wattle-and-daub additions, each with a thatched roof and hundreds of diamond-paned casement windows. Gustav Fletching stood to the left of the fireplace, staring vacantly into the room. He was dressed in the same suit he had been wearing when he was abducted more than a month prior with the addition of a heavy, iron collar around his neck. Seated at a desk to his left with his feet up, Desmond Jagentoth glowered at him.

“Gustav,” he barked. “How does it feel to be home?”

            “Forgive me, Master,” he said in a soulless whisper. “I don’t know.”

            Desmond whipped his feet off the desk, leaned forward and slammed his fist down. “That is not an answer!”

            “Forgive—”

            “Shut up!” He seethed for a moment, watching his slave’s reactions carefully. “Something happened to you. Somewhere along the trip here. You’ve done something to turn yourself off. It’s like you’ve gone away. How have you done this?”

            “Forgive me, Master. I don’t know.”

            “Fuck you!” he shouted, reached out and grabbed the first thing that wasn’t nailed down (a fist-sized paper weight with the Jagentoth crest on it) and hurled it at him. The heavy bronze object struck Gustav on the chest. He recoiled with the impact and involuntarily cried out in pain, but quickly begged forgiveness again and stood where he was.

            “Fuck you…” Desmond looked down at a piece of paper on top of a stack of many—a receipt, yellowed with over two decades of time, for a young, half-elf boy. “You were worth one hundred and twenty gold to him,” he said quietly. “You were _priceless_ to me. Where have you gone?” He slowly stood, frowning deeply and approached Gustav. His eyes were greyish and unfocused. Desmond ripped his shirt open, destroying the fine corded closures. A welt was already forming where the paper weight struck him and Desmond stroked it gently.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded, and Gustav obeyed.

 

.x.

            Armed with scant information about the number of guards positioned at the house, but with enthusiastic encouragement from Ophelia Mardun, the Mighty Nein converged under heavy cloud cover later that night. Silently, aided by Jester’s magic, they surrounded the structure and sniped the three guards posted to the east, west, and on the roof. Three of them fanned out to spy into the first-story windows to suss out the situation inside. Fjord spied two men sitting at a table in the back, apparently taking a break. Nott saw at least one man walking the halls, and Caduceus pressed his shoulder to a shutter and peered through diamond-shaped panes into a study lit by a handful of oil lamps. Within, he saw two figures: one fully dressed and another, naked, bent over a desk, his arms held behind him, his braided hair pulled back until his bound neck looked like it might snap as the other man thrusted against him. Even in the low light, Caduceus recognized Gustav and his heart twisted to see the lost look on his face. He recoiled, quickly turning away, and took a moment to collect himself before sprinting to the front to report.

            “It’s _bad.”_ He startled his friends with his intensity. “We gotta get in there, _right now.”_

 

.x.

            Gustav winced as Desmond released him and lay against the desk, helpless and beaten. Before he could start another round of rape and torture, Desmond’s attention was drawn to the sound of a commotion in the halls of his manor house. “Get dressed,” he hissed, throwing Gustav’s clothes at him and jogged from the room, pulling out a dagger as he went.

            “Yes, Master Jagentoth,” Gustav whispered.

.x.

            Desmond rounded the corner heading toward the front of the house but before he could bark for someone to tell him what was going on the body of one of his employees flew past him and slammed into the wall, propelled by a magical force. From several angles he heard the sounds of battle as the Mighty Nein swept through the house and in a moment a huge woman came barreling down the hall. Her face was the very picture of rage and she swung her sword to attack him.

            “Yasha?!” Desmond shouted in disbelief.

            “D-Desmond?” she asked, recognizing her former employer, and hesitated. “Where’s Gustav?!”

            His own rage pulsed through him and he made a fatal mistake. He grimaced and threw the dagger.

It might as well have been a toothpick.

Yasha blinked as it pinged off her armor. “Why did you—?”

            A wounded guard stumbled into the hall crying “Master Jagentoth! We can’t hold them back!”

            Yasha’s face darkened. “Master… _Jagentoth?_ Desmond… _you’re the one?”_

            He looked from the guard to the barbarian staggering with smoldering anger toward him. “Do something, you idiot!” he shouted and raced to the end of the hall to take the sword from the crumpled body that lay there. The guard slumped to the floor with a sizable crossbow bolt in his back.

            “Yasha!” Nott called. “Need help?”

            “No.” She charged Desmond. He raised the sword to attack her and she split him in half.

 

            The sounds of the fight thudded through the house for another few moments. Caduceus saw that the coast was clear and jogged up to Yasha. “You got the bad guy,” he said. “Found Gustav yet?”

            She shook her head and used the cushion of a nearby bench to wipe Desmond’s blood off the Magician’s Judge.

            “I think he’s this way, come with me,” he said and led her toward the back and east of the home. He found the study with little difficulty and rushed in to find Gustav standing to the left of the desk he’d been violated over only a short while before. He was dressed in his own ruined clothes again and looked filthy and exhausted. His posture was straight despite what must have been considerable weight from the iron collar around his neck and he gazed out at the room at attention. “Gustav!” Caduceus chimed and put his hands on his shoulders. “Boy, are we glad to see you. Remember me? We’re friends. You know Yasha,” he said as she entered behind him and sheathed her sword.

            Gustav blinked and his mouth opened a little. “Yasha…” he whispered.

            Caduceus let a troubled sigh escape and pressed his soft palm against Gustav’s chest. “We’re here to rescue you,” he said and poured his healing magic into him.

            It took Yasha several moments and many calming breaths before she felt she could approach her friend. “Hi, Gustav. Remember me?” she asked softly.

            “Yasha…” he breathed again, recognition flitting across his dulled, grey eyes.

            “You poor man,” she said, cupping his face in her hand. “We’re getting you out of here.” Without another word she picked him up like a child. As they went, Jester skipped in. “You found him!” She turned and shouted out the door. “Guys! We got him! He’s ok!”

            “That’s debatable, actually.” Caduceus frowned and followed Yasha. "I'll find the key to that collar, you get him out of here."

            Jester’s shoulders slumped. As she was left in the room alone, she decided now was as good a time as any to start looting and went to warm her hands by the fire. A poker jutted out from the middle of the coals. She pulled it out to stoke the fire and froze as she saw that the end of the implement did not taper to a point. A few lines that made up a rune surrounded by a circle about two inches in diameter was glowing red hot. In horror she threw it back into the coals, spun around and scanned the room. She noticed the messy desk, atop which a set of manacles rested, waiting. “Oh, no,” she whimpered and ran from the room.

 

            Yasha took Gustav outside and set him down on the ground, then rummaged through her pack. He stared up at the house and shivered before she threw her blanket over him and pulled him close. They stood like that for several minutes and he slowly stopped shaking. She fussed over the collar and apologized that she couldn’t get it off just yet, but promised that if Caduceus couldn't find the key, Nott would have it off in a flash.

“Y-yasha?” he asked, voice faint and slightly monotone, and reached in back of him, untucking his long braid from the blanket. “Would you please do me a favor?”

            “Anything.”

            He lifted the braid and bowed his head.

.x.

            “Woohoo!” Nott cried from down the hall. “Jackpot!” Jester ran up the stairs and Beau jogged in from a neighboring room to see the goblin girl running her hands through piles of platinum coins extracted from a strongbox under the floorboards.

            Caleb poked his head around the doorframe. “Ah. Gut, you found something useful. These assholes are not well-read.”

            “Not surprised,” Beau scoffed.

            Jester bit her lip. “Did _you_ find anything good, Beau?”

            “Just bullshit.”

            “I think maybe Gustav was getting tortured,” Jester said quietly. “There was a poker in the fireplace and some chains and shit in the room Caduceus found him in.”

            Nott’s brow furrowed. “You think they were going to burn him with it?”

            “It had like a crest on it and it was glowing red hot.”

            They paused and looked to the pile of coins. Nott closed the chest and tried to pick it up with some difficulty, then relented and let Jester take it downstairs.

“Caleb, I know you don’t like burning buildings very much,” she said when it was just she, Caleb, and Beau in the room. “But I think we should burn this motherfucking place to the ground.”

            Caleb nodded slightly with a heavy pout. “My desire to be comfortable is fairly overruled by my desire to do just that.”

 

.x.

            They piled whatever they could onto their mounts and convened at the front steps of the Jagentoth manor house, each, save Caleb and Gustav, with a torch in hand. Caduceus Clay stood before them and raised one of his massive paw-like hands. “I think we all need a moment, here. I’d like to say a few words, if that’s ok.”

            Fjord looked to his comrades and spoke for them all. “Please, Caduceus.”

            He took a deep, cleansing breath. “We came to rescue our friend, and we took the lives of eleven men. We saved one, but perhaps countless more in the future. We cleanse this place of evil from the world with fire and send the souls of those departed within to the after. May they find the peace they could not in this life.” Caduceus nodded his head solemnly and everyone spread out into the house, setting it and the bodies within alight.

            Fjord was the last one out and clapped a hand on Gustav’s shoulder as he passed by, trying to catch the half-elf’s eye, but behind the hair that hung over them, his eyes were unfocused and downcast, staring somewhere between the braid in his clenched fist and the ground. It was a familiar look and a twinge of pain clenched Fjord’s heart as he recalled the feeling of helplessness he’d experienced while in the clutches of the Iron Shepherds. “Gustav?” Fjord asked, leaning down to enter his line of sight. “Would you like a torch?”

            Gustav took a shuddering breath and nodded. Its light shook in his trembling hand as he stepped to the doorway aided by Yasha on the left and Caduceus on the right. Flames were beginning to lick the walls of the hallway before him as he extended his hand. “This place stole _a quarter century_ of my life,” he stated slowly. There were several audible gasps behind him and Yasha’s grip on his waist tightened. “This house is rotten, deformed, and deranged, full of hate and fear and disappointment. Desmond, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, that I failed you. But I know there’s nothing I could have done. I’m free from this place. And now, you are, too.” He tossed the torch into the hall. It landed on a wool rug and immediately started to burn. He twisted his severed hair into a knot, pitched it in as well, and it landed on the flames and ignited. Gustav watched it for a moment, then fainted into his friends’ arms.

            Caleb Widogast hugged himself and twitched as the structure succumbed to the flames. Nott took his hand and Beauregard pressed his head to her shoulder.

            When they were sure it would burn to the ground and before the flames got high enough to be noticed from afar, the Mighty Nein mounted up, securing both the spoils and their rescued friend, and rode off into the night.

By the time the sun rose, they were well on their way to the border.

 

.x.

            The group traveled south, rarely speaking. A pall hung over them after learning their friend had been enslaved for so much of his life, but Gustav would not offer any more details. He rode in a daze, responding to questions and taking care of himself, but otherwise appeared to have suffered so much trauma that he had shut down.

After a day of this, Caduceus rode up to the front of the line and asked for a favor. He could smell fresh, running water not far ahead and wanted to know if they could stop for an hour or more so that he could attempt some ritual healing. There was some nervous murmuring from a few of them and Caleb muttered “we are getting close to _that spot._ If you are going to stop, best do it soon.”

            “Right. Right,” Caduceus breathed. “Jester, I could use your help with him.”

            She agreed and after a little while Caduceus decided they were close enough. A thin rill snaked its way across the landscape to the east, just a few hundred feet from the road. A pale, thin light filtered through the clouds, washing everything in grey. The Mighty Nein took a rest on the side of the road as Jester and Caduceus took Gustav to the water. They sat flanking him at its grey, mossy bank and Caduceus started to instruct Gustav to meditate on the sound of his voice—that he and Jester would use their abilities to channel negative energy away from him and allow positive energy to replace it.

            “People, places, events, they all have an impact on us. Some are great, some are terrible. But we always have the power to let them go. We’re gonna use water here as a metaphor, but also to aid in our ability to cleanse you of this negativity. Water’s always on the move. It lets everything go. It flows here from North to South,” he said, taking Gustav’s right hand, turning it palm-side up. He used a wooden spoon he usually used for cooking to ladle a little water into the well of his palm and motioned to Jester to place Gustav’s left hand into the stream itself. “As it flows it takes impurities and washes them away. Pulling the stagnation we feel, loosening it, gently breaking it up and washing it away, downstream. Let the water flow into your mind, Gustav. Do you see the stream?” he asked, confident that he was sufficiently lulled.

            “Yes,” he whispered.

            “Good. What’s keeping it from flowing?”

            “The dome.”

            Caduceus raised a brow at Jester who shrugged. “The dome? What’s the dome made of?”

            “Brick.”

            “Is it yours?”

            “Yes.”

            “Can you take it down?”

            “It’s safe in here.”

            He nodded to Jester and she put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s safe out here, now, Gustav. Your friends are here and you’re going home to Nicodranas.”

            His brows arched and his voice cracked. “Home…”

            Caduceus folded Gustav’s fingers over the water in his palm. “The dome helped you, kept you safe, but you don’t need it anymore. You can let the water gently work away at the mortar, push the bricks aside and gently carry it away. Wave good-bye. Thank you, dome. Thank you, spell. It’s ok to come out into the light again, Gustav. Out onto the path home.” The two clerics glowed with radiant healing energy and Gustav sighed.

            “Home…!”

            “I’m looking in through the cracks in the dome, can you see me?”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m extending my hand through ever-widening gaps as the bricks fall away, softly, dropping into the stream. Will you take my hand?”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m helping you out. Gentle tug on your arm, put your weight on me and step out into the light. Onto the path. You’re right beside me. We’re going home.”

            Gustav’s eyes flicked open, bright and richly brown once again and he stared at the little creek in front of him. Jester patted his left hand and Caduceus gave his now dry and empty right hand a squeeze. “Welcome back,” he said.

            “Hello.” Gustav blinked at them. “What _was_ that?”

            Caduceus hummed. “Some pretty incredibly strong protection magic. A little _too_ strong, maybe. You were stuck in there. How do you feel?”

            Gustav ran a hand through his cropped locks and let out a surprised chuckle at the new feeling of the short hairs on the back of his neck. He leaned back and looked up at the cloudy sky. “I should feel horrible. I know what happened to me. I remember everything, but it’s like I was watching it from a distance.”

            Jester sighed. “That’s really good because, wooo, I mean—” Caduceus tilted his head to the side and gave her a look. “Oh, heh. Right. Sorry. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Gustav.”

            They helped him to his feet and rejoined their friends. As he mounted his horse, Caduceus thanked them for letting him dawdle and they started off again, heading south in awkward silence.

            “Are we gonna tell him?” Beau whispered to Caleb.

            “I do not wish to, for his sake and for ours. It is painful enough as it is, ja?”

            Beau nodded and as they progressed she passed the message along. Caduceus said that he would stay back with Gustav when it came time for them to pay their visit to the grave of Mollymauk Tealeaf.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moliggan Brightside sings “I Wish I Was The Moon” by Neko Case (once again).

 

 Caleb signaled to the group and they dismounted. Jester reached out and took Nott’s hand in her left and Fjord’s in her right. Yasha strode ahead of them toward a rock outcropping about one hundred feet off the side of the Glory Run Road. Caleb glanced back and waited for Beau who walked beside him, arms firmly folded across her chest.

“We’re resting again?” Gustav asked.

“They have something they’re gonna do,” Caduceus said coaxing him further away and off the opposite side of the road. “We’ll just hang out here for a little while.” He was terrible at small-talk but gave it his best effort. “Hey, tell me about home. You live in Nicodranas, that’s a nice place.”

Gustav watched the little group trudge away through a few inches of melting snow toward the outcropping. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s very nice. I’m incredibly homesick now that I’ve got my wits about me, again. I miss my husband, terribly. He, uh...” He shifted his weight and opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Fortunately, the firbolg was feeling chatty.

“We’re gonna ride pretty fast. Should be back in a couple weeks, I think. Took us about six days to get here from Zadash, but we were really moving.”

Gustav listened to Caduceus, but watched the Mighty Nein as they stopped. They were just far enough away that he couldn’t clearly hear what they were saying, but he saw Yasha drop to her knees and suddenly start clawing at the frozen earth with her hands. An argument broke out and their voices raised. “...some wild animal might have…!” “...grave robbers!” “...gotten up and walked away…!”

Suddenly, Gustav realized where they were and the trepidation of having to admit he’d hidden Molly from them for almost a year was washed away. “Oh, gods,” he breathed and took a step toward them.

Caduceus put a hand on his shoulder. “Gustav, you don’t have to. You’ve been through enough.”

Beau’s agonized voice shouted over top of the growing din. _“Molly isn’t alive!_ Stop it!!”

Gustav’s head snapped up and he gave the firbolg a pained look. “No, I have to tell them...”

Shocked by his reaction, Caduceus released him and they both jogged over to the group. The Mighty Nein went silent as they arrived, heads bowed or turned away, flush with emotion.

“He’s alive,” Gustav said firmly. “Molly _is_ alive.”

“Stop it,” Beau hissed through clenched teeth, her back turned to him.

Gustav looked to each of the mourners, faces contorted with grief and anger and confusion. Yasha knelt in the mostly frozen grave dirt, disturbed from over a year before when Molly had crawled from it and wandered down the road toward him. Gustav shuddered. “He came back again. Molly _lives._ ” A few of them started to object, to question, to argue with him at once _._ Gustav shook his head in frustration. “He’s my husband!”

Heads turned to face him, mouths opened. Finally, Jester gasped and shouted “Oh my god! He’s Moma’s friend?!” she shrieked, beaming at Gustav who affirmed her discovery with a nod. “I can—you guys—I can send a message to Molly!!”

Most of them cried, or laughed, some both. Yasha stared at Gustav dumbly in disbelief, Caleb covered his face with his hands, Nott wrapped herself around his leg, and Beau exploded in a fit of movement, walking fast in meandering circles, rubbing her hands over her face and arms as she tried as hard as she could to not break down until she collided with a soft, furry object that folded her into his arms. Caduceus hugged her tightly, pressing her head to his chest and she froze in place for a moment then slumped against him.

Gustav wiped tears from eyes that he couldn’t tear away from the lumpy pile of earth and snow around which his friends were clustered. He imagined the love of his life warming his toes on him while he slept curved into his embrace, pushing his chilly nose into the dip of his collarbone as they made their way to Zadash; the soft, warm, sweet man who on arriving in Nicodranas declared that he would never leave if it meant he’d never have to be cold ever again.

He looked on Molly’s grave where he’d rested, frozen, lifeless, and alone for weeks before being resurrected, and a choking sob erupted from his throat, startling both those gathered around it, and himself. He quickly covered his mouth and turned away, but could not stop the torrent. Short, blue arms laced around his middle and he felt the familiar press of a head adorned with curved horns against his back as Jester hugged him tightly, sobbing, allowing him to bawl loudly and freely. “I miss him so much!” he cried. “I wanna go home.”

 

Caleb stared at the ruined grave and shook his head. “He’s alive,” he whispered.

Fjord clapped a hand on his back. “Crazy shit.”

“The _craziest_ shit,” he agreed, chuckling softly. “It has been a little while since last I laughed and cried at the same time. It’s an odd feeling.”

“Right? Jes’s takin’ Gustav over there to send a message to Molly,” he said and nodded his chin toward the pair as they walked back to the road and ahead of the group by a hundred feet or so for privacy. “First time I ever wished I could hear what’s goin’ on inside her head.”

“A terrifying thought.”

“It’s gotta be all unicorns and porn in there.”

Caleb laughed. “Pastries shaped like dicks.”

Fjord cracked. “The Traveler naked on a bear rug!”

“The Traveler, Oscar, and _you_ naked on a bear rug!"

The two men brayed with laughter at their lost companion’s former gravesite, and though they hadn’t heard the words and were perplexed and amazed by it, Beau, Nott, Yasha, and Caduceus found this utterly contagious.

.x.

Jester sat cross legged on a blanket on the side of the road across from Gustav and explained the spell. She suggested he tag his message with ‘twenty five word limit reply’ because she said “some people don’t get it, you know, and they, like, ramble on and on and on!” Once he had crafted twenty words that he felt were just right, she felt out for her long-lost friend and cast the spell. Gustav recited the words to Jester and she repeated them into the ether.

 

_“To Molly from Gustav. My dearest pest. I’m safe. I love you. All will be well. I’ll see you soon. Twenty five word limit reply.”_

“Ok,” she said quietly, an excited grin on her face. “Now we—” she didn’t have time to finish the thought before a familiar voice shouted into her mind with an unfamiliar tinge of happy, gushing tears.

_“Gustav! I love you so much! I miss you! I don't know what to…Oh, twenty five words…”_

There was a pause before his voice calmed a bit. _“We'll make it better, together. Be safe—!”_

Jester clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting with joy at the sound of his voice or squealing with delight over the content of his words. When he’d finished his message, she repeated it to Gustav and they both cried and laughed and hugged and Jester decided that Gustav was the most precious of cinnamon rolls and she would do just about anything to make sure he got home safe to his Molly.

.x.

When they returned to the group, Nott and Beau especially peppered Gustav with questions and Jester yelled at them to be quiet. “Give him a break! He just woke up from being all locked up in his head and he had to see Molly’s grave and then heard from him and he misses him so so so much so just give him some space, ok?”

They apologized indignantly and everyone agreed that they would talk once they made camp that evening. Gustav thanked them and mounted the horse he shared with Nott. He reached down and offered her a hand up and she gave him a toothy but sheepish grin. “I’m sorry we got so excited, Gustav.”

“It’s completely understandable. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right when I awoke from the protection spell, or whatever Mr. Clay said I had locking me up. I wasn’t sure when would be a good time to bring it up.” He sighed. “I’m sort of glad that the pressure is off, now.”

Nott reined the horse in line behind Caleb and they started off for the south again. She twisted around to face Gustav and whispered. “I know we said we’d talk later, but, does he remember us at all? I know he didn’t remember his life before.”

“Nott,” Caleb scolded. “Later, please. These are things we are all wanting to know and I’m sure Mr. Fletching would like to rest in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Caleb,” Gustav said, glad to be rescued. “I am a bit exhausted after all that.” He smiled down at the little goblin. “Miss Nott, if I start to slip off, do elbow me.”

She blinked up at him and agreed and didn’t pester him again.

.x.

As dusk fell and the travelers started to scope out a good place to rest for the night, Gustav found himself growing nervous. How much should he tell them? Would they be angry with him for effectively hiding Molly from them? But Molly hadn’t wanted to find them _—_ he was still so conflicted about his identity as Moliggan Brightside. Gustav remembered Molly, drunk, sad, and bitter slurring _‘the_ old _Molly, the_ real _Molly’_ and shuddered. Perhaps they could help him, he thought, reaffirm what Gustav knew to be true _—_ Molly was Molly. Wonderful, joyful, Molly.

As his thoughts lingered on his husband, he gasped and Nott prepared to elbow him. “Are you falling asleep, Gustav?” she asked.

“No, I…” Tears sprang to his eyes. “I’m just… I’ll be fine. Sorry,” he said quickly and fell silent. Inside Gustav Fletching’s head, Moliggan Brightside sang.

**_“_ ** _Last night I dreamt I’d forgotten my name 'cause I sold my soul, but awoke just the same. I'm so lonely. I wish I was the moon, tonight…”_

His voice was as clear as if he was seated beside him. He heard the strumming of his seven-stringed saz, too, a bit fainter, but present, as he played.

_“How will you know if you found me at last? 'Cause I'll be the one, be the one, be the one with my heart in my lap! I'm so tired, I'm so tired, and I wish I was the moon, tonight.”_

Gustav wiped his face with his sleeve and sighed. “Miss Nott, can we ride up to Miss Jester for a moment, please?”

Nott agreed and spurred the horse forward. Gustav asked the young cleric to send another message to his husband.

 

_“Gustav says he heard ‘I Wish I Was The Moon’. Please play for him again. We’ll be in Nicodranas in one month. See you soon!”_

The reply came almost immediately.

 

_“Jester! He did!? Oh, I'm so happy! I can’t wait to meet everyone. Be safe. That’s a nasty road. Heard I slept there a while.”_

Jester gasped, horrified at the joke and cast the spell once more _. “That’s not funny! You haven’t changed a bit! I’m blowing my last spell with this. One more reply. We’ll take care of Gustav for you.”_

_“Thank you so much. Hug all the folks for me. Give Gustav an extra squeeze. And please bring your ma those bear claws from Zadash.”_

 

**.x.Thirty Days Later.x.**

Molly leaned against the doorframe to his apartment and sipped the last dregs of the vanilla and spice tea he’d been nursing for the last hour and mused a little at the simple comfort it gave him. He remembered when they had bought the bright turquoise glazed mug he held in his hands. It was one of the first things they got for their apartment when they had moved from the inn. There had been many for sale in rainbow colors but Gustav liked bright, light red and Molly dark charcoal grey. They had compromised on a color they both liked. Molly took another sip and kissed the rim.

The apartment sat at the top of a “T” intersection of narrow, cobblestone streets. The buildings, mostly residential, sat flush to the street and the front of Molly’s home had a door and a small, barred window facing it. Though the perpendicular junction afforded a slender view of the horizon before it sloped away around the corner and downhill from the door, from the window one could see only neighboring buildings. Molly stood and watched the last rays of the sun descend toward the ocean. Overhead, the moons began to brighten as the sky darkened. They looked down like mismatched eyes on the city of Nicodranas and Molly cast his own eyes up to look back at them. “Soon,” he whispered.

For the thousandth time that day his heart skipped a beat as footsteps approached but his pulse no longer raced with each occurrence. He glanced up lazily at the square-shouldered form of one of their neighbors and nodded in greeting. They chatted for a while, the older man asked about Gustav and Molly said he’d be back any moment. “Tell him we’re thinkin’ ‘bout him,” the neighbor said, tipped his hat and went on his way.

The sun sank lower in the sky and with a resigned sigh he put the mug on the table and locked the house up. Before he walked away, he gently touched the note he’d tacked to the door with Gustav’s name on it. Inside, it said simply “At M’s. Come find me!” in Molly’s child-like scrawl with a large, sloppy heart shape with a sort of pointed tail for a signature. “Soon, but perhaps not tonight,” Molly breathed, patted some dust off his long skirt from where he’d leaned against the door, dug his hands into the pockets of his peacock coat and with chin held high strolled off toward the Lavish Chateau.

 

Molly had walked a few doors down to the left, almost to the corner of the curving, narrow street that ran parallel to the apartment when he froze in his tracks. His heart raced as he thought he heard a familiar laugh. It was faint, nervous, a little tired, but happy.

“We don’t have a lot of room, but...” Gustav said as he hurried to the door. He froze as he saw the note, plucked it from the nail and tore it open with shaking hands.

Molly turned and watched him for a moment as if casually observing a dream. The last rays of the sun touched Gustav and gave him a glowing orange outline. Molly walked toward him, picking up speed with each step.

“Ah, of course. He’s gone to the—”

Gustav’s head snapped to the right as he heard pounding footsteps, beamed a huge smile and threw his arms open. Molly launched himself at him, nearly knocking him over, but Gustav compensated by shifting his weight and spinning, clutching the sobbing tiefling to him.

“Molly! Oh, Molly!” he cried and kissed him repeatedly. “My beautiful pest, how I’ve missed you!”

Molly sobbed, touched Gustav’s face and ran a hand through his cropped locks. “Are you ok Gustav oh gods what happened to your hair oh I’m so sorry I love you I missed you so much...!”

“Shhhh, Molly it’s ok. It’s ok.” Gustav kissed forehead and held him close, shushing him, then remembered he wasn’t alone. “My love, we have an audience.”

Molly shook his head as he found his lips again. “Iduncare,” he muttered between kisses.

“I think you might,” he said softly and gently took him by the shoulders. Gustav faced the audience in question. “This is my husband, Moliggan Brightside. Molly, this is…”

Molly’s eyes went wide and at last he looked over at the line of seven figures, backlit by the fading light of the sun. “The Mighty Nein!”

Jester took a tentative step forward. “M-Molly...” she whispered. A few others echoed his name and stared at him. Even with weeks to prepare, they were shocked to silence. Moliggan Brightside wore his dark violet hair long, tied back today in a wavy ponytail. It didn’t appear that he had added any new tattoos from what they could see but all the ornaments on his horns were new. His tail swished happily from side to side behind a long, black, gored skirt with a high waist decorated with blue and green embroidered flowers. A white linen shirt tucked into the skirt billowed around his middle and the neck was untied for the warm weather of Nicodranas. Over this he wore his favorite peacock jacket. His eyes glistened with tears and he beamed at them with a delighted smile.

He draped his right arm around Gustav’s middle and his left hand against his chest. “My memory is _mostly_ gone,” Molly said carefully, feeling the penetrating stares they gave him. “But Gustav told me everything he knew about you, and Marion filled me in a bit. I can’t believe you saved him, _twice_ now!” He reached up and ran his thumb over Gustav’s cheek, then stepped forward with his hands clasped tightly together. “I will never be able to fully express my gratitude to you. You have saved my love, my happiness, my _everything._ Thank you!” He pressed his hands to his forehead and bowed then straightened back up and smiled wanly, failing to hide how badly his hands were shaking. “I don’t want to disappoint you. I’m not the same man you knew anymore, but I know we were friends. I’d like to get to know you. If you—”

“Can I hug you?!” a soft voice shouted out of the hulking form of the barbarian woman before him.

He looked surprised for a moment at the incongruity but softened and opened his arms. “Of course!”

Yasha crossed the distance between them in two huge strides and surrounded Molly in her embrace. She stood still and cried silently, and despite not knowing exactly why it meant so much, Molly felt tears spring to his eyes and returned the hug. In a moment, more arms encircled him as the rest of the Mighty Nein huddled in, some sniffling, some whispering their disbelief, repeating his name. Only one of them stood back and looked on them with a sagacious grin.

“Wow,” Caduceus purred. “This is really great.”

 

They agreed that they all needed rest and Gustav deserved to have Molly to himself for a while. The Mighty Nein waved as they walked up the street toward the Lavish Chateau, but one of their number hurried ahead and disappeared from view.

“Where’d Nott go?” Fjord asked, afraid of the answer.

.x.

Once they had turned away, Molly stopped waving and spun around to face his husband. He smiled up at him with his brows arched in worry. “I—”

Gustav reached out and gently touched the gold embroidery of his jacket with a bemused smile. “What are you wearing?”

Molly blushed. “I found it when I cleaned the house. It had my name on it. I’m sorry if I ruined a surprise, but I couldn’t resist. It’s gorgeous.”

“First, you _cleaned the house?”_

“I had some time to kill.”  
            “Second, it is for you. Of course, you couldn’t read the note.” Gustav grinned. “It was to be an anniversary present.”

“Anniversary, oh gods…” Molly breathed, hung his head and wrung his hands nervously. “Gustav, I didn’t...I would _never_ …! But it doesn’t excuse how I treated you, how far I had my head shoved up my arse.” He pulled the rings from his left ring and pinky fingers. Molly pursed his lips and extended his hands. “Please forgive me. I promise, I will be better. If you’ll help me?”

Gustav blinked back tears as he gave Molly his hands once more. “I will, if you’ll help me, too.” Once again they exchanged rings and Gustav pulled Molly close, slowly wrapping his arms around him, kissing him deeply. “We have a lot to talk about, and some of it will be painful, but I love you, and I need you, and I am overjoyed to be back in your arms.”

Molly melted. “We’ll talk, later,” he said, pulled him toward the door and withdrew the key to their little apartment. “Welcome home!”

.x.

Caleb heard Nott’s feet slapping on the cobblestones as she ran to catch back up with them. “Nott, were you spying on them?”

“What? Me? No, I thought I saw a button in the gutter and I had to go check it out.”

“You should not have done this,” he said, looking ahead, his eyes lost in the shadow of early evening.

Beau leaned down to her and fake-whispered “were they cute?”

“Super cute!” she hissed back, then noticed Caleb shake his head. “Oh,” she said quietly and tugged on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

Beau raised a brow. “Whoa, wait. You had a thing for Molly?”

Nott smacked her leg and gave her a look, drawing her thumb across her neck to suggest she stop talking.

“I was fond of Mollymauk, yes. But I buried him and have mourned him. This will not change. Gustav is a lucky man and I am happy for them both.” To put a pin in the discussion, Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets and picked up the pace a little.

Beau frowned and booked after him. “Nope. You do not get to mope alone!” She hugged him tightly from behind. “I feel like I want to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. It looks like him, smells like him, laughs like him, but it’s not him, but we knew that. We get him back, but it’s like a tease, right? We're basically in the same angsty boat, but you gotta remember. We’re all at the sails _together_ , ok?”

Caleb knew better than to fight his strong friend and acquiesced to her care. He let a long breath out and patted the arms that wrapped around his middle. “Ja. Thank you, Beauregard.”

 

.x.

Dawn’s light had just begun to seep into their room when Molly was awakened by a soft, pained moaning coming from his husband. Gustav lay facing him, hugging himself and mumbling something Molly couldn’t quite catch but didn’t spend a moment trying to discern. He kissed his forehead, reached up and brushed his thumb over his cheek, and whispered “It’s ok. You’re home.”

Tension dropped from his wiry frame and Gustav quieted. Molly watched him sleep for a few minutes, gently caressing his cheek and listening to his breathing.

Gustav’s eyes fluttered open and beamed a sleepy smile. “Molly,” he whispered as he accepted soft kisses all over his face.

Molly pulled back and admired him in the pale light from the tiny window for a moment. Suddenly, his brows arched and he frowned. “Oof. I didn’t take my tea last night,” he said quickly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He breathed heavily and bent down with his head between his knees.

Gustav sat up in alarm, put a hand on his back and rubbed it, gently. “Are you alright?”

“Just nauseous. Happens sometimes. It’ll pass. Keep doing that—feels good.”

“You didn’t take tea so you’re going to throw up?” he asked but kept up the comfort.

“Medicine tea. Not sick, per se, just— Well, we’ll talk. Later. Part of everything, really. I’ll tell you, I promise.” He lifted his head finally and gave him a sheepish smile. “It boils down to me being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, you just behave like one, sometimes.” Gustav kissed his forehead, slid out of bed and pulled on a pale blue silk robe. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Molly let out a ragged sigh as the last of the nausea passed, stood and stretched all the way down to the tip of his tail, relishing the twinge of sore muscles as he did.

“Where’s the bar gone?” Gustav called from the other room.

“Well, that’s part of it, too.” Molly put on his robe (made in a lemon yellow jacquard of flowers and vines) and joined him at the table by the window. The little oil burner was just starting to warm the kettle and Gustav held a tin marked “Molly’s fix-it blend” in his hand.

“I sold it. Not drinking anymore. Overdid it, to put it mildly.”

“Molly…” Gustav looked from the space where the cabinet had been, where he had dropped the decanter on that fateful night, to Molly, then down to the tin in his hand. “You’re in withdrawal.”

Molly folded his arms. “Not so bad anymore. This was just because I forgot the tea last night.” He looked away from the plaintive brown eyes that bored through him. “Before I found out you were alive and were being rescued I sort of pickled myself every waking hour.” The kettle softly whistled and Molly took the tin of medicine from Gustav and busied himself with preparing the dose. “Which would you like, darling? This one, right?” he asked, holding up a tin with an orange flower painted on it.

He nodded and Molly poured the hot water over a silver tea ball in a large, turquoise mug. Gustav inhaled the scent of his favorite blend and a powerful feeling of comfort washed over him. He was sitting at his table, with his favorite tea, in his mug, with his husband across from him. Molly sipped his slowly—he was always able to withstand such incredibly hot temperatures. “Does it taste bad?” he asked.

“Not really. Smell?”

He did. “It smells like a forest floor.”

“Tastes like it, too. Not bad, just a bit loamy. Works, though! When I take it once morning, noon, and night I don’t get the feeling I want to puke, anymore. Puked quite a bit for a while after I quit. Apothecary says in a couple months I’ll be right as—”

“—Molly, I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault!” he asserted, cutting Gustav off. “This is because I was stupid. _I’m_ sorry! I didn’t tell you—”

“—You’re not the only one, Molly! I kept things from you, too.”

Molly opened his mouth to say something, but was shocked into silence.

Gustav reached across the table and covered his lavender hand with his. “I am so...you know what? We’re both sorry as hell. Let’s have a standing apology for today, shall we?” Gustav smiled softly. “Instead, any time we feel compelled to express regret, just say ‘I love you’.”

Molly nodded. “I love you. Let’s talk!” he agreed and leapt up from his seat. He plucked pillows from all over the two-room apartment and threw them on the divan. “I want to get this over with. I want to feel better. I want to start over.” He sat down on the end of the divan facing the wall and patted the empty space in front of him. “Come on. I want us to be happy again as soon as possible, Gustav, and if that means plunging head-first into this pain, so be it!”

“We will,” Gustav asserted, bringing their tea mugs with him and seating himself, legs bent between Molly’s. He put the mugs on an end table and took Molly’s hands in his. “We can do this. Together.”

.x.

They spent the morning sharing stories. Molly confessed his loneliness caused by his desire to help Gustav be successful that lead to his shame at feeling spoiled and needy. Gustav told him how he’d decided on the night of the party to close the shop in the Opal Archways because he didn’t have enough time or money to get it going. Molly talked about that horrible night and the insecurity he felt comparing himself to Mollymauk Tealeaf, and what he’d learned from Lily and others about how Sinamon had drugged him and taken advantage of him. And Gustav cried as he realized that he could have saved him from being molested if he hadn’t run away. Molly held him close and told him that he thought that if he hadn’t run away from their argument, he could have saved Gustav from being taken.

They told each other ‘I love you’ over and over again.

Gustav told his husband about his past, how he’d been enslaved and abused and how that life had caught up with him a month prior. About the silent carriage ride with Desmond across the Empire and how he’d heard Molly sing and cast a spell of protection on him. How even from that far away, Molly’s love saved him from the horror that would have broken him again had he been conscious. He told him about visiting Mollymauk’s grave and how precious the Mighty Nein were to him, now.

 

The conversation lasted several hours and by the time they were done, the clock in the nearest square chimed eleven bells. They lay, limbs entwined, in silence on the divan and listened to the sound of each other’s heart beating for a while.

Molly hummed thoughtfully. “I have one more question.”

“Mhm?”

“Just how old _are_ you?”

Gustav froze for a moment then laughed loudly at the absurdity of such a straightforward, drama-free question. His thin frame shook against Molly’s body and fresh tears sprung to the tiefling’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him over and over.

“Oh, Molly. I’m sor—I mean, I love you! It’s not funny, really, I just couldn’t help it.”

“I missed your laugh _so damned much!”_

When they’d calmed again Gustav took a deep breath and addressed the question seriously. “How old am I? I’m not exactly sure. Somewhere around fifty, I think?”

Molly blinked. “How old do you think I am?”

“I assume late twenties.”

“Yikes.”

Gustav lightly slapped his bicep with the back of his hand. “I’m a half-elf. We age differently. Besides, I spent a quarter century as a non-person. I think we’re pretty even.”

“Not hardly. I am only one year old!”

Gustav mused on this. “Well then, yes, I suppose I’m robbing the cradle, aren’t I?”

Molly laughed.

“Alright, we should get up. We have a long day ahead of us,” Gustav said and started to right himself.

Molly nodded and untangled himself from him. “First stop, Ema.”

“Yes, but perhaps the baths first?”

“Good plan. Baths, then pastries, then Ema.”

“Pastries?”

“I have an idea,” he said.

Gustav could hear the devious grin in his words. “Alright. Perhaps we’ll take lunch with Ema, then head up to the Chateau to see the Nein.”

“Oh no...” Molly seemed to lose color in his face.

Alarmed, Gustav took his hands in his. “What is it?!”

“What am I gonna wear?!”

 

.x.

Molly and Gustav walked slowly from their apartment down the hill in the late morning sunshine toward their local bathhouse, arm-in-arm. Gustav listened as Molly prattled on and on about the little things that had changed in the neighborhood in the two months he was away. They took a leisurely and fairly private bath in the mostly-empty facility and Molly was stunned speechless for a moment by how attractive Gustav looked wet with his new haircut. “Though you need more meat on your bones,” he purred, taking him by his pronounced hips.

“Please feed me pastries,” he replied quietly.

Molly blushed a deep plum. “Ohohohoho, you just wait, mister,” he growled and traced his thumbs over his jutting hip bones. “I’m going to feed you _so good_ , you’ll be _begging_ for more.”

Gustav’s face went bright pink and he turned away from the few bathers they shared the bath with. “Ok you win. Silly of me to have tried to out-sexy you.”

Molly gave a satisfied laugh and leapt out of the water. “Yet the reigning Queen of Sexy!” he crowed and struck a pose. The other bathers grumbled and pretended to avert their eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

Gustav looked up at Molly’s fit body, the dance practice showing in every curve and toned muscle, and lowered his eyelids. “How could I?”

Molly chuckled and cupped a hand over his response. “Ok, you can be the Prince of Sexy,” he relented and turned to get dressed.

“Not the king?” Gustav teased as he followed suit.

“You’re too pretty to be a king.”

“Fair enough.”

Molly dried his hair as best he could and got dressed. He wore a long, flowing skirt cut on the bias and made of a dozen or more different fabrics in bright jewel-tone colors with a pale yellow linen shirt and his peacock jacket. He left his hair down so that it could dry. He had a pair of black ankle boots on his feet and silver jewelry on his hands, neck, and horns.

Gustav wore a suit of pale blue linen with vibrant yellow accents--a half-jacket over a long, white tunic top and trousers that were tapered and cuffed around the lower calf with dark blue fabric slip-on shoes. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back away from his face and Molly bit his lip. “We’re never going to get there if you keep being so damned attractive.”

Gustav gave him a smirk and stuck his elbow out for Molly to take it.

.x.

They stopped at their favorite patisserie and picked up five chocolate croissants. On the walk to the shop, they each ate one. Just before they arrived at the door, Molly told Gustav to stand off to the side and peer through the furthest window from the door and wait until he wagged his tail back and forth to come in.

Emerald Fletching was busy. She used a long pole with a hook on the end to lift down a prêt-à-porter garment from a hanger on the wall. “Molly!” she chimed. “How’re ya feeling?”

“Wonderful,” he said, bowed and gave her a kiss. “Got us some eats.”

She looked in the bag he handed her. “Three of them?”

“One for me, one for you,” he said and wagged his tail. “And one for—”

“Gustav!!” she shouted and tackled him as he came through the door.

 

.x.

Yasha dozed in the corner of Marion Lavorre’s parlour, seated upright, arms folded across her chest. It was nice to be out of armor, but the warm climate was not to her liking. The way her clothes stuck to her reminded her a little too much of a past life lived in a swamp.

The past was very much on her mind as she watched her friends chat and play cards to while away the time as they waited for Molly to arrive. Since seeing him the night before, Yasha found she couldn’t get comfortable. A nervous energy coursed through her and she shifted in the plush chair again.

Fjord threw his cards down as Nott cheered, having taken another pile of his coin and he got up and went to the window. He looked to Yasha and nodded. “How you holdin’ up?”

She shrugged. “Nervous.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe it, myself.”

“It’s him.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I can’t believe he’s ok, and has been this whole damn time.”

“He was safe. He wasn’t drowned, or burned to a crisp, or locked away in a prison, or gored by a monster…” she shook her head. “Gustav kept him alive for us.”

Fjord nodded. “Yeah. I still feel pretty shitty about not bein’ there when—” he cleared his throat. “You know when. But I kinda think we woulda got him killed eventually anyway.”

Yasha pursed her lips. “I can’t imagine him fighting a fire giant.”

Ford snorted. “Or a succubus.”

Yasha laughed quietly.

Their attention was drawn suddenly to the Ruby of the Sea as she leapt from her chair, propelled by the sound of a certain knock upon the parlour door.


	13. Chapter 13

 

The room exploded with cheers as the couple entered. Molly bowed low and greeted everyone, apologizing up front for any public displays of affection toward his husband he would be unable to restrain himself from, and he was immediately forgiven. They had all been utterly charmed by Gustav on their journey south and were glad to see him so happy.

As Gustav had kept quite a few details of Moliggan Brightside’s life and times to himself, Molly was able to share stories with his new friends and they shared stories of Mollymauk’s adventures with him.

Jester reminded Caduceus and he retrieved a box containing two dozen bear claw pastries to share, preserved by his magic for weeks and still as fresh as the day they were baked. Molly had to confess to them (after several people offered him a drink) that he had ruined his ability to consume alcohol (much to Nott’s horror), but they were glad to hear he was getting treatment and feeling better.

Marion asked them to show off the garments they wore as they were all either Gustav Couture or Fletching & Fletching designs. Everyone was impressed, especially by Molly’s jacket, and they reminisced about Mollymauk’s wonderful coat, which by the time they revisited his grave had long since disappeared. They were not surprised to learn that Gustav had made it for him and Gustav begged them to stop by Fletching & Fletching before they left so that he could give them whatever they wanted. With not a small amount of excitement, Marion announced that Gustav had, in his absence, acquired another wealthy but anonymous investor who would forward thousands of gold to help his fancy clothing business get back on its feet.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, deflating the high energy in the room. Molly held his hand tightly. “Even before I left, I’d made a painful decision to fold Gustav Couture. I found I was forced to choose between having success or happiness, and _I chose happiness_ ,” he said firmly, looking lovingly into his husband’s eyes. “I’ll speak to Sir Epwint soon to figure out how to settle my debts. He’s a kind man, I think he’ll understand. And I can still create garments for him, just not for everyone in the Opal Archways. It was a great idea, but it’s just too much. Please thank the investor for me and extend my apologies to them.”

“Well, how much do you think you’d need for your debts?” Marion asked cagily.

“I’m sure over time I can handle it.”

Fjord cleared his throat. “How much, Gustav?”

The half-elf froze and stared at the expectant faces that stared at him and knew he was sitting in the same room with his seven ‘anonymous’ investors. “Oh, no, not again. It’s too much! You can’t!”

“We can and we will.”

“But--!”

“We looted that horrible place, Gustav. They took a quarter century from you. We took what we needed,” Fjord said and stood.

Yasha pulled a small chest out from behind her chair and brought it over to him. “This is yours,” she said and opened the chest revealing shining, silver-colored metal coins. “Six hundred and seventy platinum.”

“Holy fuck,” Molly sort of laughed and gasped at the same time.

“I… can’t…”

Molly threw his arms around him. “We can pay your debts and buy a house! A _proper_ house, Gustav!”

Gustav Fletching wept. He buried his face in Molly’s shoulder and nodded. “Ok. If it’s for you, I’ll accept it. Thank you. Thank you.”

 

.x.

Each in their turn, over the course of the evening, the Mighty Nein congratulated Gustav and Molly. Nott sat at Molly’s feet as he played his saz for them and marveled at his skill, especially when he played an upbeat, positive song and laced it with his bardic powers. They were all left inspired and energized and the party got a little raucous for an hour after. Caduceus, Jester, and her mother chatted with Molly about these newfound powers of his and their potential, and how remarkable it was that his songs could cross the continent to reach his beloved’s ears.

Yasha spent a long while simply seated beside him, listening to stories and getting periodic squeezes from the affectionate tiefling.

Fjord showed him what remained of the Summer’s Dance, married together with the other blades his falchion had consumed, and recounted many a crazy tale from their months of bunking together.

The two human members of the party watched and listened, laughing and smiling, but kept their distance for a long while.

 

As the evening wore on, Molly excused himself from those clustered around him and crossed the room.

“Hello,” he purred, pulling up a chair and facing the man reading a book who had tucked his chair firmly into the corner of the room. He made sure to leave enough room should he wish to flee from the attention, but close enough to touch. “I’m sorry I’ve been so wrapped up with running my mouth over there, we haven’t had a chance to chat.”

“It’s alright,” Caleb said quietly.

“What accent is that?” Molly asked, doubling down on his own light brogue.

His face flushed. “Z-zemnian.”

Molly leaned back in his chair, observing the wizard trying to sink into the upholstery. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Caleb. If this is too much—” he said and started to get up.

“No, no. I am sorry.” He smiled, but it was thin and tense. “It’s been a long time. It is so very good to see you.”

Molly narrowed his eyes. “Alright, what did he do?”

“I’m sorry?”  
            “Mollymauk. Was he terrible to you? You seem like you’d rather be doing anything but chatting with me.”

“No, no! That’s not it at all.” His intense blue human irises found Molly’s red tiefling eyes and stared for a beat before flicking away.

“Ahhhhh…” Molly pushed his chair back a little and folded his hands in his lap. “I see.”

“What? What do you see?”

“We had a thing.”

Caleb closed the book. “No, I—” he began. This man was not Mollymauk. He owed Moliggan no admission of how much his heart twisted to see him in the flesh. “I am not mentally well, and you… well, you were a little crazy, too. It would have been terrible.”

Molly smiled kindly. “Can’t say I’ve improved all that much. I’m a recovering alcoholic with identity and co-dependency issues, but at least I’m getting help!”

Caleb blinked and chuckled. “That is impressive—to acknowledge and to admit. And very strong. It took me a long while to become even slightly so. These people have helped me tremendously,” he said and motioned to the group on the other side of the room who were currently gathered around Nott, Gustav, Marion, and Jester who were playing a card game. Occasional shouts or bursts of laughter would go up from the table.

Molly reached out and took his hands in his and just held them. Caleb flushed and froze in place, but did not move to tear himself away. Molly’s hands were soft and warm. He did not recognize any of the baubles on his fingers except one, a platinum ring in the same style as the only one that Gustav now wore.

He stared at the wedding band and gave a resigned sigh. “I buried you,” Caleb said quietly, not to the man before him, but to his ghost.

“Then it’s your handwriting on my note.”

He glanced up, confused for a moment. “Your note?”

Molly nodded. “My only prized possession.”

“You still have it!”

“I was clutching it so tightly even the bandits who mugged me couldn’t tear it from my grip.”

Caleb trembled and his mind scrambled for an analytical thread to carry him away from the flood of emotions that bubbled up. He found one and followed it away from the rising need to burst into tears. “We thought you might come back. We did wonder why you didn’t read it and seek us out, especially because you were there, _right there_ , in Zadash for so long. Caduceus, Gustav, and I have determined that you might have a tether to the moons, judging by the timing of your return, why it was weeks later when they were full. Gustav told us how troubled you were. We understand. We’re just glad that you were safe.” He smiled softly, lips twitching nervously as if unused to the action. “I mourned Mollymauk. I missed him terribly, but I let him go. I’m happy you are alive, Moliggan Brightside. I’m happy that I get to know you, again.”

Molly smiled back and gave his hands a squeeze. “Thank you, Caleb. I look forward to it.”

“Oh!” The wizard brightened and raised a finger. “I got the killing blow on the man who killed you!” Caleb piped with pride. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long while.”

Molly put a hand to his chest and thanked him again. “I covered up today, but usually I don’t care who thinks what about my scars. I just didn’t want to make you sad, is all."

Caleb stared at the center of Molly's chest. He  asked to see it with a nod. Molly pulled the neck down revealing the diamond-shaped scar. "Gottsverdammt," he breathed. His eyes flicked up over Molly’s head and he straightened suddenly. "Beauregard…"

"Whatcha doin', guys? Playing you-show-me-yours I-show-you-mine?" she joked as she approached, then saw just what he was showing and stopped short. "Oh."

"Sorry, Beau," Molly apologized and covered it back up.

"Nah, it's ok. I mean, I saw it happen. Not much that's worse than that." An awkward silence fell over them. "Anyyyyway. Can I steal you for a sec?" she asked. "I gotta tell you something before I forget."

Caleb waved his consent and Molly got up, put his hand on her back and drew her with him out onto the balcony overlooking the city.

 

“Some view,” she said. The last bit of sunset still colored the distant waves in orange and red, fast shifting to plum, violet, and black. The moons had risen, huge and pale yellow above the horizon behind the city skyline.

He grinned, looking out at his home city. “Isn’t it?”

“Molly, I…” Beau began and fished a coin purse from the folds of her sash. “I want to give you this.”

He obligingly opened his hands and gave her a perplexed look. “Paying me off? What did you do?” he teased.

“We got you killed,” she said flatly. “This was yours. One hundred sixty-five I took off your body.”

He fought the desire to drop it like a hot turd and instead tried to hand it back. “I can’t. It’s not mine anymore. Besides, you probably spent it on something fun?”

“I think most of it went to Gustav’s bail, actually.”

Molly gasped. “Then it went to something important. Even better!” He tried again to hand it back, but she wasn’t having it. “It’s fine, Beau, really. You’re a good person and I appreciate it.”

Finally, the firm pout on her lips cracked and she smiled and accepted the coin. “I learned it from you,” she whispered.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “You know, I’ve really struggled with that!” he said, voice strained. “I didn’t feel that Mollymauk could have been a good person, what with these scars and having gotten himself killed off, and all the lascivious behavior Gustav told me about. I thought that my behaving like a jackass from time to time, especially when Gustav and I had our argument, was some sort of negative residual from a man I used to be that I had no control over.”

Beau’s brows arched but she did her best to restrain herself from protectively wrapping her arms around him. “Well, you were a bit of a jackass, for sure, but you _were_ a good person! You were kind, and full of joy and happiness. You made us happy. You made every place you went better. I don’t even remember you ever getting sad or dark, oh, except once. When you—” she chose her words carefully. “When you thought about your previous life. You said you didn’t care about that guy because he got himself killed and you liked who you were, that you were happy and a good person.” She gave a soft chuckle. “Say, Moliggan, since you’re a great guy, and Mollymauk was a great guy, maybe the guy before him wasn’t so bad, either?”

Molly beamed at her and nodded, wiping his eyes with his thumb. “Maybe you’re right.”

Beau awkwardly reached out to embrace him. He folded his arms around her and squeezed tightly and Beau leaned into his embrace. “I’m glad you came back to us, Molly,” she said quietly. After a moment or two had passed, she collected herself, gave him some friendly pats and slipped back into Marion Lavorre’s parlor. Molly watched her go and scanned the room. He already felt a soft, familiar love for the Mighty Nein blooming, just as Mollymauk had, just as Gustav had in his month-long journey home with them. He breathed a sigh and went to the railing. He inhaled the cool night air and watched the moons for a moment. “Caleb says you bring me back,” he whispered. “If so, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Molly? Everything alright?”

Molly turned and smiled sleepily at Gustav. “Just thinking about how I keep coming back.” He took him into his arms in the moonlight. They stood and watched the colors fade from violet to purple to indigo.

“That’s not usually something that makes you smile. Did you just come to some sort of epiphany?”

“I think so!” he grinned. “I had dreaded having to face them,” he said quietly. “Because I didn’t remember, I couldn’t have known how much it would mean to me. How I’d feel so connected. They loved Mollymauk, they love you, I love you, I love them. It’s just a mushy love fest all around and I’m so glad I got to come back again and give it another go. Feels like it’s what I was meant for, in a way.” He spoke softly, head bowed against Gustav’s shoulder.

“You were meant for what, exactly?”

Molly looked up at Gustav and grinned to split his face. “The answer was love, the whole time.”

Gustav rolled his eyes and kissed him. “You’re a pest.”

 

**THE END**


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